Dangerous Love
by ShadowGrace
Summary: Katie Carlton is a college freshman that's always been obsessed with her grades and has never stepped out of her comfort zone. Jack Stanton is an Ace that has yet to find his significant. When the two of them meet, neither of them think that they'll change each others lives. Katie struggles with learning to live and Jack faces down the rules of the Aces, all in the name of love.
1. Wow, That Was Awkward

**Full Summary:**** Katie Carlton, a college freshman on a full-ride scholarship for her academic prowess, has more than just classes on her mind. This is the first time, the very first time in **_**forever**_**, that she's been out from under the thumb of her overprotective parents with high expectations for their youngest daughter. All her life, she's been trained to fix her older sister Miranda's mistakes. But it's hard to break from the fabric of which you've been cut, and she thinks that she's doomed, forever, to be the one hitting the books. That is, until attractive sophomore Jack Stanton steps into her life. He's nothing like she could imagine – funny, sarcastic, witty, **_**living**_**. And besides that, there's something special about Jack, something that she can't quite put her finger on….**

**NOTICE: Once again, I'm experimenting with a different view of things. I don't want you to be privy to all of my secrets just yet, but you'll be sure to notice them eventually. Besides that, dear readers, this is a planned novella, a spin-off of my completed story **_**Words of the Heart**_**. I don't plan on you needing to have read WOTH for this to make sense, but of course it helps. Plus, I always like for people to read my writings (and review them!), duh. :P**

**This is told in multiple POV's. Every chapter will be in one POV. They probably won't go back and forth on a perfect pattern, because I don't do so well with expectations, so make sure you know who's talking! (:**

**This is rated T for TEEN, since the characters are at college, and this is a romance story. There will be in the mention of parties and alcohol, maybe some language, as well as PDA. You've been forewarned.**

**** All translations are from Google Translate. I only speak English and a tad of Spanish, so forgive me if the languages aren't particularly correct.****

**The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.**

_Dangerous Love_

_1: Wow, That Was Awkward_

Katie

_This is what dying feels like_.

Okay, maybe I don't know that for sure, but it's what I _imagine_ that it feels like. I put my hands on my stomach as my roommate, fashion extraordinaire and quick-witted education major, Demi, pulled hard on the ties of the corset. Neither of us knew how to tie one really, but she was doing her best, yanking me several feet across the floor as she did. I had the feeling, though, that if she tied it any tighter I would pass about before we even reached the frat house.

"There," Demi huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "Look in the mirror now." I did as she said, turning to look into the full-length mirror she'd hung up on her side of the room. The edges were pink with turquoise spots, framed with a feathery pink boa, the sides of the mirror covered in stickers of Disney princesses, hearts, and stars. In the very center was me.

I tilted my head at my reflection. I didn't look like myself in the tight black corset and ridiculously short orange and black tulle skirt. I was trying to ignore the fact that I thought I had knobby knees, not to mention hideously pale legs spotted with raised red welts from my fight with my razor earlier today. My shoulders were bare, smattered with tiny freckles just like my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. I had always had eyes that were unnaturally large and a weird hazel that almost looked like the muddied skin of a pear; green-yellow, rimmed with brown lashes. My hair was auburn, so in the sun it almost had a coppery look to it. Inside, it looked brown. Boring, hopeless brown.

Next to Demi, I looked like the girl that got invited to the party because everyone else pitied her. My roommate was someone that I didn't think I'd get along with when we first met after I moved into Wharton Dorm. I'd moved in days earlier than she did, determined to make sure that the room was cockroach-free and ultimately clean. After spending a morning disinfecting the entire room, I set up my corner with my floral bedspread. I'd even straightened up my new desk, putting things away in their rightful places, hanging up posters and photos, and stuffing my clothes into a miniature closet. And then she'd walked in, all loud and perky and completely opposite of what I'd specified that I'd wanted in a roommate.

Not to mention the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous, with her naturally blonde curly hair and her bright blue eyes. Demi had a quick smile and even quicker wit. She was funny and amiable and people loved her. She was also smart, incredibly smart, which is something that I wouldn't have originally thought. She was just so _different_ from me, a free spirit that had always had the sense of being in control of her life. Demi wasn't scared of anything except her mother's hard-as-a-rock cookies. It was thanks to her that I had started to come out of my shell, over the walls that I'd built around myself. At least, that's what I liked to think.

She still insisted that I was a homebody and that I needed to get out more. I wouldn't dare tell her that this _was_ me getting out more.

"You, chickadee, are _hot_. I'd want to take you home." She offered up, priming her hair in the mirror. Thanks to her naturally curly locks, she'd decided to go to the party as Taylor Swift. Standing next to her in a sequin dress and a pair of cowboy boots that she'd picked up from the local store and had promptly fallen in love with, I could imagine myself with Taylor Swift. Or, at least, a Taylor Swift wannabe.

Outwardly I scoffed, smoothing out the tulle of the skirt. Inwardly, I cringed, my cheeks blushing at the implication. I was, for a college coed, embarrassingly inexperienced in the boy department. Not that I hadn't had any boyfriends, I had, but where Demi had stories of making out on the beach or sneaking out late to go party, my stories were about my longtime boyfriend, now an ex, who stayed indoors with me and watched reruns on the History Channel. He was off at Stanford, the reason for our breakup. He said that it made sense, that it was the logical choice since we were so far away from each other. Garrett had always been logical like that. It was one reason that my parents allowed him to date me – if there was anyone else that was going to be higher in class rank than me it was going to be him.

"You promise you're not going to ditch me?" I asked, ignoring her compliment. That was one of my biggest fears; I was going to be left alone in a frat, trying to find my way back to my dorm while fielding guys that had too much to drink. Besides, I'd signed an agreement with my parents that I wasn't going to go to any wild parties. It was part of our deal. I wasn't exactly breaking the rules, I was just stretching them. I'd made Demi promise me that she was never going to leave me alone, especially at a frat party. She'd agreed easily, but since this was the first party that she was forcibly dragging me to, I had yet to see if she was actually going to uphold to it.

"Pinky swear," she replied, holding up the finger. She waited long enough for me to sigh and reach over to wrap my pinky around hers. We shook once, sealing the deal, and she flounced away from the mirror. She was going for _more_ red lipstick. The color was a little off on her, but in my opinion, it was off on Taylor Swift, too. Nobody really agreed with me there. But whatever.

I looked down at my key and tried to figure out how I was going to carry it with me. I didn't own any small clutches like the ones that Demi had brought to school with her. And it wasn't like this corset – which was currently squeezing the life out of me – had any pockets. As I stood in front of the mirror, I debated telling Demi that I'd changed my mind, that I wanted to stay here. We'd promised that we'd use the buddy system at all parties, just to be on the safe side, but I knew that Demi had plenty of friends that wouldn't mind being her wing woman. Besides, I had a research paper due in two weeks that could be worked on.

Right when I opened my mouth to tell Demi that I was going to stay home, she said, "You know, I'm really glad that you're coming with me. You need to live life, not be locked away in your study carousel at all hours. Besides, what kind of best friend would you be if you didn't come with me?" She asked.

I swallowed hard. Of course, she would think of something to say that made my words get strangled in my throat. Demi threw around the term "best friends" too loosely, I thought, but I'd never heard her call anyone else but me that. Maybe she did think of me as her best friend and not just her quiet, controlled roommate. I was always willing to help her with her schoolwork and she was always trying to drag me away from the library. Maybe she really did have my best interests at heart. But I couldn't be for sure, because I'd never known any different.

I'd told Demi my entire sob story one night. I couldn't really remember _why_ I'd told her everything I did, but we'd been sitting on our smaller-than-twin-sized beds across the room from one another with only her psychedelic hot pink lava lamp as a light source. I think it had something to do with the fact that Demi had discovered that her boyfriend of three months had been cheating on her since the moment we moved into our dorms. She'd been more broken up about it than I had been about Garrett after we called off one and a half years of dating. But I'd learned early on that Demi was emotionally sensitive. As she'd pointed out, three months was a third of a pregnancy (she'd signed up for child development for the semester) and she'd truly been hurt by it.

And, in the moment, I found myself telling her about Garrett. She'd listened with shiny, puffy red eyes. As we continued to talk, I found myself telling her all about me and my family. I told her about my older sister, Miranda, who was the bane of my parents' existences. My sister was smart, she just didn't apply herself. My sister had a sense of right and wrong, but she tended to throw caution to the wind and do first, ask later. Miranda was anything but a homebody. She wanted to go out, experience life, see if for what it was and live in the moment. Her best friend got married and had a baby right out high school, which was like a slap in the face to my parents, who had tried to cultivate her as well. Miranda skipped class and chose to party and nearly flunked out of her first semester of college before finally dropping out after her sophomore year and heading to beauty school. After that, she'd told our parents one day that she was leaving for a "trip," and the next she was gone to go backpacking around the world. She was the rebel of the family, the one that purposely did everything opposite of what my parents wanted.

My mother was born and raised in France and still had a little bit of a French lilt to her voice. She'd married my father after they met while he was studying abroad. They'd moved to the states, which my mom had always found dreamy. She wanted Miranda and me to find our own American dream, and that meant working hard. That meant studying and making good grades. It meant keeping ourselves safe and shooting towards our goals. My mom would have honestly been happy with anything.

But then there was my dad. My mom was a romanticist, and my dad liked to look at the world in black and white. He thought anything short of a bachelor's degree was failure, and he thought that a good reputation was the key to the world. He'd often reminded Miranda in their blow-up arguments that her future could be compromised because of her actions today. But Miranda had just ignored him, and it was up to me to be the star daughter of the Carlton family. I _had_ to succeed.

My dad hadn't said it in so many words, but it was an unspoken agreement between us. While my dad was slightly ashamed whenever someone brought up Miranda and he had to say that she was off learning how to braid hair or paint toenails, he could say that I was off pursuing a pre-med degree. I was salutatorian of my graduating year, I had a full-ride scholarship, I worked hard and studied and never went against the rules. Even my boyfriend for the remainder of my high school years was hardworking, heading towards pre-law. I'd done well for myself, and that made both of us proud. It wasn't like my dad was a heartless machine. He wanted the best for his daughters, he just couldn't stand it when Miranda took every opportunity that he gave her and shoved it back in his face, because that was something that my older sister had done on a daily basis. And Miranda hated it when dad breathed down her neck, watching her every move, which he did often.

Overprotective didn't even begin to describe it.

I loved my sister, and I loved my dad, but the two of them could drive a person insane. That was why it was a good thing that I had my mom. She'd insisted on Miranda and me learning French as a second language, her native tongue, and she'd introduced it alongside English when I was preschool. Now, I spoke fluent French and was acing my language classes. Miranda had given up that part of our heritage, using it only when the high school required her to have foreign language classes. But my mom and I would sit outside and talk quietly in French, pretty words rolling off my tongue as I stared at her flowers that she had planted in the front garden. But even though she was a breath of fresh air from my sister and my dad, she was still hard on me to do well. She had never gone to college and had instead worked in a florist's shop, where she always came home smelling like gardenias. She wanted me to do better for myself, too, she just didn't push as hard as my dad did.

"_Vous respirez_, Katelyn," I told myself quietly, looking into the mirror and wondering, for the millionth time, what exactly my Halloween costume was. _Breathe_. It was something my mom used to tell me when I would get worked up. _Vous respirez_. I took a deep breath, looking at myself in Demi's ridiculous mirror.

"What?" Demi asked as she worked to pin her hair up, speaking around the bobby pins she held with her teeth. The girl had brought at least two other mirrors with her – besides the full-length one I stood in front of, she also had a double-sided one that she used for makeup and a handheld one that was a little larger than my entire hand. She stood in front of the double-sided one, squinting at her reflection. I could see, in the harsh light that came from it, the powder that she'd swiped across her nose and the smearing of her mascara under her eyes. Even though she looked it, Demi wasn't perfect. I knew that, and it made me love her all the more. Because even though we'd virtually been strangers when we unloaded everything on the other, she'd trusted me with her deepest, darkest secrets, the ones that she hadn't told anybody. Nobody but me.

"Nothing," I replied, blinking at my reflection. I knew that Demi didn't just ask me to go to the party because she wanted me to come out of my shell and spend a little time away from the library. She had her own reasons for asking me to be her wing woman. And despite the fact that I was scared to death of leaving my dorm room and entering the place of everything my parents had warned me about, I needed to do it because of Demi. Because she trusted me. Because she needed me.

Strengthening my resolve, I turned around and said, "What am I supposed to be again?"

Demi, her mouth in an _O_ as she reapplied her mascara, turned around to face me. Her eyes traveled down the tight corset and the short skirt, all the way to the calf-high boots that she'd loaned me. "I think Marcie has a witch's hat. Go grab that and carry around that nasty broom from the supply closet and you're a witch."

"Thanks, but I could do without the broom," I replied. Stepping carefully in the heels, I moved across our tiny dorm room and to the hallway door. The dorm was for coeds, a move that my dad hadn't been particularly happy about. He wanted me in an all-girls dorm, the closest one to the library. But this one was very nearly in the center of all the dorms, close to the majority of my classes and within walking distance from the library, so eventually he consented. The hallway was decorated in smiling jack-o-lanterns and ghost cutouts, courtesy of our RA, Sara. Some of the others left their doors wide open for guests. Some blared their music too loudly. Some of them had whiteboards tacked to their doors, which were prone to receiving crude drawings, usually of the immature type.

Marcie's room was right across the hall. She was rooming with another one of our friends, Julia, who had a sweet, girl-next-door demeanor on the surface but chased it away with her spoiled brat routine and her party-girl mode that clicked on Friday evenings and didn't disappear until Sunday morning, when she was nursing a hangover and struggling to finish her homework for the week. Marcie herself was nice, a girl from the south, where they liked fried food and big hair. At least, I assumed.

I paused in the hallway, feeling incredibly naked. I never wore anything like this, not even to go to sleep in. Not like I would wear a corset to sleep, but it was less modest than the tank top and sleep shorts that I wore. And I never really went out in those – only if I was padding to the restroom in the wee hours of the morning, which almost never happened. I wasn't like Demi or Marcie or Julia. I was a jeans-and-T-shirt type of girl; I always had been. I wobbled for a second, stretching out my arms to catch myself. I nearly fell, too, right when Julia opened the door. She reached out and caught my arm.

Like I'd imagined, Julia had found the least modest Halloween costume in the entire town. It looked like she was wearing a body-hugging gymnastics leotard. Cat ears pushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her face, and her eyeliner was thicker than usual, winging out at the corners. "Hey, Katie," she said with a grin. Stepping back, I realized that she had a tail attached to the back of her leotard. Classy. "You look cute. What is it?" I blinked a few times. She'd used _cute_. As in, little girl scout cute. Or puppy cute. But then again, if she thought she looked great, I was probably lucky to be considered _cute_.

Instantly, I chastised myself. Julia had always been nice to me… for the most part. I had the feeling that when she insulted someone, she didn't really mean it the majority of the time. She was sort of clueless as to how she came off. "A witch. Demi said that Marcie had a witch hat that I could probably borrow."

"I do!" Marcie came up behind Julia. Apparently, she'd had the thing sitting out because she waved it back and forth in the air. She was wearing a short dress that looked like it was made of some sort of velvet. Her hair was curled over her shoulders, and it looked like she had vampire fangs in her mouth. "Here. Demi texted me and said that you might need it."

"Thanks," I said, taking the flimsy thing from her. "I've got to figure out how to put this in my hair."

"I'll help," Demi said from behind me. She beckoned me back into our room. Marcie and Julia left open their door and we left open ours, so we could call across the hall to each other. It was normal dorm stuff, aside from the type of crap the guys pulled. More than once I'd caught them racing down the hallways in the big rolling laundry baskets, and they often decided to have mattress wrestling, where they took their tiny, thin mattresses and ran down the hall towards each other at full force, trying to knock the other one down. I'd seen plenty of people go down to the nurse's station because they'd broken a nose or a finger doing that.

Even in college, boys were less immature than their female counterparts.

Demi pinned the hat onto my head and then helped Marcie paint her fingernails a shade of blood red. After another thirty minutes, night had fallen and it was agreed that the party should be in full swing. As a newbie to a frat party, I wasn't really sure what to expect beside frat guys and kegs. I was also expecting a lot of skimpy Halloween costumes. But I didn't complain or say anything negative as Demi looped her arm through mine and said, "Come on, sexy. We've got a party to crash."

# # #

The party was everything that I expected. And worse. I didn't know how Miranda or Julia managed to _enjoy_ this. It was so crowded that sweat was dripping down my back, plastering my hair to my head. I was thirsty but had to spend thirty minutes searching for a water bottle. There were people that were already smashed and there were plenty of people that were just naturally crazy. People "danced" with each other in one of the center rooms as music shook the entire foundation of the frat house. Freshman ran around and made sure that everything was running smoothly, hardly pausing to enjoy the party. Not that I believed that anyone could enjoy this.

It hadn't taken long for us to get separated from Julia and Marcie. Julia had found her boyfriend, a beefy guy that was on the football team, Marc. He and Julia had slipped into the crowd easily, disappearing from view within seconds. Marcie had hung around with us. I had acted like a balloon attracted to static, or half a piece of Velcro. Sticking to Demi's side, I had to force down the urge to grab onto the back of her sequined dress so I didn't lose her.

I'd told myself that it was virtually impossible to lose her, that I would always be able to find the bright lights flashing off of her costume. I could always text her to find her. And if it came to the worst case scenario, I would fight my way to the front door and slip back to Wharton Dorm. I'd eventually shoved my dorm key into my left boot, and I could feel it pressing up against my skin with every step that I took. It wasn't like I was going to be forever lost in this crowd or anything, even if I felt like it right now.

But as we moved from friend to friend, visiting and laughing and ignoring the guys that had had way too much to drink, I lost her. One minute she was there next to me and the next she was gone. Panic seized in my chest as I searched the room frantically from her. The frat house was in an old building that, from the outside, looked old and creepy, and not because of the crappy Halloween decorations that the guys had put up. They hadn't even put up the fake cobwebs _correctly_. It was just _old_, which meant that it wasn't very big. I mean, big enough to be considered a mansion back in the 1700s, but with the bedrooms roped off, the communal rooms weren't a large amount of space.

But even though I thought logically, my brain was swamped with panic. What happened to the freaking buddy system? My first frat party, my first college party, and my roommate and other friends had disappeared into the fray, leaving me all alone with a bunch of people that I didn't know and, at this point in time, didn't care to know. "_Vous respirez_." I told myself with conviction. _Breathe_. Demi had to be around here somewhere. She hadn't abandoned me on purpose. We'd just gotten separated in the crowd, that was it. In fact, she was probably looking for me, wondering where the heck I had gone.

I took a deep breath, ignoring the smell of alcohol and sweat. A little calmer than I initially was, I searched the room for a silver sequined dress, or Marcie's high hair, or even Julia's ridiculous furry cat ears. The problem was that Julia hadn't been the only one who had decided to come to the party in an animal costume. I caught dog ears, bunny ears, cat ears, mouse ears… even bug antennas. But I couldn't find any familiar cat ears in the crowd. Marcie's hair height was lost around football players and basketball players, which left me dependent on Demi's dress.

And, of course, glitter and sequins were apparently _in_ for this Halloween season. I was pretty sure that every girl had some sort of shiny metallic surface on her, from a bit of shimmering eye shadow to the girl dressed like a fairy that looked like she'd taken a bath in body glitter. After several minutes of looking, becoming more and more frantic every time I scanned the room, I finally saw her. She was the only one, I thought, that was wearing a full sequined dress.

Kicking off from the wall where I'd harbored myself, I headed towards her, pushing through the crowds and trying to keep her in sight. I had almost reached her, too, when someone stepped in front of me. Determined to not run fully into them, I tried to side-step them. But in Demi's boots I wasn't as agile as I usually was and lost my balance. Like an idiot, my arms pinwheeled in the air as I struggled to find my footing. Right when I was about to lose my balance, someone reached out and steadied me with a warm hand on my arm.

"Whoa," he called out, having to yell to be heard because of the thumping of the music. I regained my balance and quickly pulled away from whoever it was, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I _knew_ there was a reason that I wanted to stay in my dorm room instead of coming to this party. _You came for Demi_, I reminded myself, but it didn't help as I looked up into the face of one of the most handsome guys I'd ever met.

I wouldn't be lying if I said that the choice of guys was better on a college campus than on a high school one. I had no idea why it was true, but it was. The pick of guys was just _better_ here. Maybe it was because some of the older ones were more mature and didn't make the kind of jokes that first graders still thought was funny. Maybe it was because they _looked_ older, more rugged. Or maybe it really was because, for the first time in a year and a half, I was a single woman, and as such, guys were just something that I noticed subconsciously.

But this guy was still different than any of the others I'd ever met. I wasn't sure what it was, but there was _something_ about him that I felt deep down inside. I'd always been a good judge of character, the kind of person that got feelings that said whether or not a person could be trusted. My mom always said that I was intuitive, that it was some sort of French sixth sense. Miranda had just scoffed and said that I was paranoid. But it had never been wrong for me, so I stuck to it, even though I didn't call it the woo-woo like my sister was prone to.

I knew that there was something about this guy, something different, but instead of being cautious I just found myself being more interested. I had no idea why. That had never happened before. Maybe my sixth sense was out of whack. Throwing me into an indifferent and unknown world had put it on the fritz. "I, um," I sputtered out. I couldn't believe it. I'd been reduced to stuttering! Incomplete sentences! "Sorry."

The guy leaned forward, obviously having not heard what I said. I blinked a few times as his ear came closer to my face. I couldn't help but notice the slight shadow of stubble across his jaw, something that, by morning, would need to be shaved. For some reason, my breath caught in my throat again. "Uh," I said, struggling to grab onto any train of thought. "I'm trying to find my friend. She looks like Taylor Swift."

Oh. My. God. My cheeks flushed bright red as the guy took a step back and eyed me. I had the feeling that he was checking to see if I was just another tipsy coed that needed an escort back to her dorm room. But I wasn't. I was coherent. Idiotic, but coherent.

"Taylor Swift?" He echoed.

"Yeah," I called back, adding in a nod for good measure. I felt like an idiot. A stupid, insipid, meaningless idiot. "It's a Halloween party," I added, as if that clarified anything. Who knows? Maybe it did.

The guy just nodded again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright flash of silver. That _had_ to be Demi. I took a step in that direction, having no hard feelings about purposely thinking about ditching the guy that had just saved me from falling on my butt in the middle of a frat party, when I tripped over a cluster of discarded purses.

And, to my horror, the guy reached out and caught me again. "Whoa," he said again, steadying me for a second time. "Did you have too much to drink or something?"

I shook my head. "I don't drink!" I called back. It was true. I didn't need to suffer from early liver failure. Not to mention that it was a clause on the agreement that I signed with my dad. I pointed down to the purses, as if that would explain everything. Who had decided to put all those purses there in the first place? And even if you did want to make a collection of purses, you didn't put it in the middle of the floor, for Christ's sake.

I opened my mouth to say that when someone bumped into me from behind, throwing me towards the guy that had saved me twice. I rammed right into him, jostling the red plastic cup that he held. It spilled all down the front of his gray T-shirt, and my stomach dropped. Seriously? So a cute guy pays a sliver of attention to me, and the whole universe decides to play on giant joke on me? Where was the fairness in that?

"Oh, my God. I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, looking around for a napkin or something. But these were college guys, the type that ordered a pizza and left out the box for the cockroaches to nest in for a week or so before throwing it out in the trash. I didn't think that they were actually napkin-using citizens.

The guy shook out his hand, spraying me with whatever he was drinking. "It's okay." He called back. "It was just a soda."

"Still, I'm so sorry!" I bit down on my lip as I continued to search for a napkin. Finally, I found the edge of a paper towel. It looked like it might have been used in the microwave for a piece of leftover pizza or something, but it was better than nothing. Wadding it up, I reached out and pressed it to his shirt, trying to soak up all the soda that I could. I bit down on my lip as the guy stood there, watching me hold a crumpled, possibly grease-covered paper towel to his chest. And suddenly, I had the audacity to introduce myself. "Um, I'm Katie." I sputtered out.

The guy just flashed me an easy, crooked grin. "Jack," he replied.

**What do you think? As usual, I'm going to give you my usual spiel. It's pretty much a must-do at the end of every single chapter that I write.**

**First off, I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read this. Like seriously, thank you. A lot.**

**And then I'm going to ask that each and every one of you take a sliver of your day to leave me a review in the box below. I don't care if it's just something that says "cool" or even "sup dude, rite mor." Though I don't prefer the latter. Basic English, my dear readers, is your friend. BUT ANYWAY. Enough of the grammar lesson, let's just get the point. I really, really like reviews because I'm a crazy reviewaholic that thrives off of strangers telling me what they think. You know, virtual support and all that. So I'm going to beg of you, in the nicest way possible, that you take a minute to write something to me. And, bonus, you don't need a FanFiction account to do so. (Nudge, nudge, wink wink.)**

**And, since this is the first chapter, I'm going to echo a twitter sentiment and say "Follow me! Favorite my story!" Lol. (: Well, it's late, which might pertain to my slight craziness (there is a method to my madness. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I know that there is one.) and so I bid you adieu. Peace (:**


	2. The Stupidest Things Ever Said

**Ialiceiamagodness – Thanks!**

**cupcakemania22 – Haha, you literally made me laugh out loud! Screaming in joy is totally an accepted response. Thanks (:**

**Caroline Guirmz – I'll try to update weekly; all of the chapters have already been written, they're just waiting to be posted!**

**Guest – (1) Thank you! (2) I'm glad you read and liked my other fanfics. That little fact certainly makes an aspiring author happy!**

**The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.**

_2: The Stupidest Things Ever Said_

Katie

I couldn't help but smile back. There are just some people that have dazzling smiles, the kind that are infectious. And this guy, Jack, had one of them. I couldn't help but notice that all of his teeth were straight, as if he'd had braces in the past, and they were white in the dim light of the room. They also looked slightly purple, but that was because of the black light bulbs that had been screwed into the occasional lamp. Or, maybe, they were just reflecting plaque build-up that haunted dentists in their darkest dreams.

But I would assume the former.

I could feel the paper towel absorbing soda. Looking at it, I tossed it into the nearest trashcan, almost missing, and called out, "I really am sorry about your shirt."

Jack just shook his head. "I know how to do laundry," he told me, flashing that easy grin of his. Was it so wrong of me to feel a little flutter in my chest as I realized that I had a hot guy's full attention? His gaze never wavered from mine, giving me the chance to look at his deep brown eyes, almost the same color as his chocolate brown hair. He was taller and broader than me, but not by much. He was bigger than Garrett, though, who'd I'd been told was hot in the nerdy way. Jack blew Garrett out of the water.

"Um," I said, struggling to think of anything to say. I usually had Demi at my side whenever we talked to guys. And when that happened, it was usually her that did the talking. My conversations were strictly academically related. I hadn't even had to work to snag Garrett. He was in almost all of my AP classes, and we were often paired together because our last names – Carlisle and Carlton – were right next to each other. If we hadn't been valedictorian and salutatorian and were just sitting in the crowd of graduates at our graduation ceremony, we would have ended up sitting next to each other anyway. That's why I always said it was like our relationship had been orchestrated by the powers of the universe. "I do laundry, too."

Okay, floor, go ahead and swallow me up. I'd like to be invisible again. Please.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. Oh, God. Why did I have to be so _weird_? But instead of crossing his fingers at me in the general witch-be-gone type of way, he just smiled a little wider. "Yeah? We've got something in common, then."

Did it make sense that I sort of wanted to burst into tears? A single person could only take so much embarrassment before she spontaneously combusted. Or something. I just let out a nervous laugh, trying to think of something to say to him that wouldn't make me sound like some sort of idiot. Or a Neanderthal. I could almost imagine myself saying, "Me Katie. Me like cute boy."

Thankfully, someone collided into me. I turned to give them a glare and was relieved to see Demi instead of another drunk. "There you are, _mamacita_." She said, looping an arm around me. "I thought I'd lost you. You know, buddy system and all that." She continued, almost as if she didn't see Jack standing in front of me. But then she turned her gaze from me to the taller, broader, fine specimen of the male species. Her eyebrows immediately rose and she gave him her trademarked sultry gaze. "Hel-_lo_," she said, her "seductive" voice was ruined by the thumping of loud music. "I'm Demi, Katie's best friend. And you are?"

"Jack," he said with a grin. I suddenly realized that this was the type of thing that happened to genius, socially awkward girls like me. They introduced their gorgeous roommate who looked like a Taylor Swift clone to the cute guy that was nice to them, and suddenly she was alone. They would hang out all the time, and Demi would exile me from our room so the two of them could make out in peace, and then they'd get married and I'd be invited to the wedding. And then they'd have two point five children, and I would be the godmother that would look at Jack and think that I'd seen him first….

Okay, it was melodramatic, but I couldn't help but think of the way the two of them would look good together, him with all of his darkness and her with her lighter color palette. It was ridiculous, but I was a little jealous. There was just something about him that I liked. I decided that there must be something wrong with me, and that I should be happy for Demi if she hooked up with Jack. But instead of paying attention to her, his gaze returned to me and he said, "You weren't lying. She _does_ look like Taylor Swift."

"Aw, you were talking about me?" Demi interjected. If I was being honest with myself, even though there was a majority of me that was glad for her presence, there was also a small part that wanted to tell her to get lost. Demi had mourned over the loss of her boyfriend for a few weeks, but then she was back in the game. All cute guys were up for grabs. I guess she just thought that I wasn't going to be paying any attention to them, since I obviously didn't partake in her boy crazy tendencies.

"I was trying to find you." I yelled in her ear. She looked like she pretended not to hear. Her eyes, though, looked between my proximity to Jack, his empty cup, and the wet stain on the front of his shirt. She was smart enough to put the pieces together. She'd realize that I'd made my grand debut by spilling his drink all down the front of him. But that didn't stop me from speaking, of course. "I, um, ran into Jack."

Demi seemed to be assessing the information in her mind. She looked like she was confused on whether or not I wanted a moment with Jack alone. Or maybe that was just the look of a female lion before she decided that she was going to steal away the male. But my mind immediately assumed the former, because she was cocking an eyebrow at me. That made sense, because I didn't know myself. I was one that was going to err on the side of caution, which meant close to zero on the alone time with unknown males. But there was a part of me that wanted me to spend time with him, despite the fact that I didn't know anything about him other than his name, and just his first name at that.

"Well," Demi finally said. "It was nice to meet you, Jack. Be nice to my roommate. I'd be lost without her." She turned and looked over her shoulder. I followed her gaze and caught sight of Marcie's big hair, and, nearby, Julia's cat ears. "There is a hot piece of pure muscle that I need to introduce myself to over there," she called out. I was jealous of the fact that she didn't look embarrassed at her own lack of inhibitions in the least. She turned to leave, but as she passed she reached over and pinched me hard on the tight skin over my shoulder.

I turned sharply. "Ow!" I hissed, glaring at her as she pushed her way through the crowd. She paused a few feet away from me, giving her trademarked smirk. She waggled her fingers at me and pointed to my boot, where I'd hid not only my key to get back into my dorm room, but also my phone. I wondered, momentarily, if it would stop working because of all the sweat gathering there. Before I could even ask what she meant, she was gone.

I turned back around and faced Jack, forcing what I hoped was a clone of Demi's easygoing smile on my face. I fully expected Jack to try to talk his way out of a conversation with me. I was actually sort of looking forward to the interesting excuses he could come up with just to get away from clumsy me and my crazy roommate/best friend. But instead he leaned up against the wall, the stain on his shirt coloring the spot darker. He gave me a smile that said he wasn't about to be scared away from me. It also said that he found me interesting. Interesting enough to stick around and see what I would do next.

I nervously tugged on the hem of my orange and black tulle skirt. I wiped my hands across the fabric, which also helped to get rid of some of the sweat that was gathering on my palms. I was aware of the fact that the corset didn't met the skirt fully, so there were patches of bare skin on my hips, and there was more of my chest showing than I'd ever allowed before. I suddenly felt like one of those skimpy girls. My dad would have a coronary if he'd found out that I'd worn this at all, much less in public, in front of guys. I felt like the makeup that Demi had caked onto my face was melting off, and my hair was starting to fall out of the tight ringlet curls that Demi and Marcie had worked on, despite the fact that they used half a can of hairspray on me.

"So," Jack said, "do you come to these types of parties often?" He wasn't even looking at me as his eyes scanned the room. The music continued to pound, shaking the foundation of the house. The air felt even hotter, muggier.

"God no," I answered. Then I paused and swallowed hard. What if he _did_ come to these types of parties a lot? What if he was offended by my obviously disgusted tone? "I mean," I started, "not that it's all that bad. It's just not… my scene."

Jack just smiled down into his red cup. I figured that it was mostly empty by now, but he just shook the cup in a circular motion, sloshing the drink on the inside. "What is your scene, then?" He asked. I'd heard the words, but barely. I took a few steps forward and leaned on the wall next to him, hoping that I didn't look like a girl that was trying too hard.

Once again, without thinking, I spouted, "The library." As soon as the words were out, I wished that I could reach out and take them back, like they were physical things. But once they were said they were out there. And it was far too late for me to try to fix it, because he'd already heard me.

The miniscule smile already taking place on his lips grew wider, and he looked up at me. Our eyes stayed locked for a second. It was almost as if I couldn't look away. Finally, I swallowed hard and forced myself to look in the opposite direction. My cheeks were probably flaming. I reached up and brushed my hair out of my eyes, my fingers getting tangled in my stiff-because-of-hairspray locks. "The library?" He echoed, sounding amused.

I immediately felt the need to defend myself. I didn't want to just be some nerdy girl that was obviously out of place at a party, even though that was exactly what I was. My stomach clenched with a thousand butterflies, and I swallowed hard, trying not to let my eyes water. I didn't want or need to cry, but I was frustrated and embarrassed, and that meant that I was prone to tears. It was a normal human reaction. It happened to the best of people. I just forced myself to keep my voice as strong as possible. "I'm here on a scholarship." I said pointedly. "If I don't keep my grades up, they're going to take it away from me, and I've got to do really well if I want to get into the med school." Maybe if he thought that I was a genius, he would try to keep from making fun of me.

He just nodded. "You kind of remind me of my brother." He said all of a sudden. "He's always studying, never takes a break for anything." He still didn't meet my gaze as he stared out over the "dance floor." It was just a part of the house where all of the furniture had been shoved against the walls to make way for the grinding bodies. He looked up at me again and plastered a smile on his face. I could tell, though, that it wasn't the same, honest smile that he'd given me earlier. "So, pre-med?"

I nodded. I didn't feel like a pre-med student in my skimpy costume. I felt like Miranda.

"I'm in business, myself. Don't really know why – I'm not a very good student." He looked up at me and smiled again. This time it was the real smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I blinked; for some reason, it was hard to breathe. "Though I'm guessing you are."

I just shrugged. At least I didn't spout out that I was salutatorian, that I'd gotten immediate acceptance because of my stance in class rank. My full-ride scholarship was dependent on the fact that I stayed in my dorm and befriended my books instead of other students. When Demi and Marcie and Julia ventured out in the world, I usually had some reason to stay behind – a research paper, a test, a stack of homework….

Jack grinned and leaned forward. "You want to get out of here?" He asked. I was sure my eyes grew to the size of teacup saucers. Did he really just ask me that? I know I wasn't the most experienced girl out there in the world, but I'd seen enough movies to know what that usually meant. It had the same general meaning as_ your place or mine_? He must have seen my shocked expression because he coughed loudly and said, "Not like that, God. I meant out of _here_, this room. This house. Like, outside on the front driveway or something."

I glanced over my shoulder to where Demi had disappeared to. I knew that Marcie was probably with her. Julia might have been with her, too, if she wasn't off with Marc. As I shifted, I could feel my dorm key and my phone in my boot. My dad would think that stepping out of this house with this guy would be stupid. Demi would probably be telling me to go for it with all of the seriousness that she could muster. Julia would probably be hooting in the background if she could see me now. I bit down on my lip and finally said, "Sure. We can go outside."

Jack just grinned and motioned for me to follow him. He squeezed through the crowd, and I struggled to stay caught up. I figured that it was due partly because of Demi's ridiculous boots, but there was also a part of me that knew it was because I really was that uncoordinated. I had never been particularly graceful or sporty. I was a nerd from the start, all the way back to first grade when I aced every single one of my spelling tests. My life was practically predestined.

He glanced over his shoulder momentarily, as if making sure that I was still behind him. Eventually, I got so far behind that he paused and waited for me to catch up, not bothered in the least that he was standing in the middle of the dance floor. Gyrating bodies covered in sweat didn't seem to make him bat an eyelash. I caught up to him, my ribs heaving underneath the corset. Demi had really tied it _tight_. I took another deep breath, trying to cool my lungs. Jack held out a hand.

I looked down at it. He had a pretty big hand. Not that it was very surprising – he was tall, and broader than Garrett, but that didn't necessarily account for anything. Still, he had a big hand and long fingers. Pianist fingers, my mom had once said. She'd tried to teach me a piano at an early age, but we learned pretty quickly that the only thing I was ever going to be good at was academics. I couldn't carry a tune to save my life. I couldn't help but examine his fingernails – clean crescents cut down to an acceptable length. There was a bit of curly hair on his knuckles that I could see, a dominant trait, I learned in my biology course. Nice hands.

He didn't seem bothered by the fact that I was just staring at his outstretched hand, either. Finally, I raised my own and set it gingerly in his. I couldn't remember the last time I'd ever held hands with someone. Garrett wasn't really one for public displays of affection. We rarely held hands, much less kissed. He had been a sweet guy, though, never forcing me to go any further than I wanted to. In fact, I was usually the one that wanted to start a make out session, which was almost out of character for me. I had the feeling that Garrett was sort of afraid of girls. It _was_ a possibility.

Jack's hand was warm, enveloping mine entirely. His fingers squeezed mine briefly before he took off again, his long legs giving him an advantage over me. I wasn't necessarily short, but I wasn't tall, either. I wasn't technically a midget, but I wasn't going to be a model anytime soon. Demi had said that my height added to my cute factor – guys had a need to take care of me because I looked like a damsel in distress. She hadn't said that in so many words, but she'd hinted at it. I was pretty sure that she was just trying to avoid hurting my feelings because she knew I didn't want to be the girl that couldn't take care of herself. Still, Jack dragged me behind him as I struggled to keep my footing.

As we reached the front door, I happened to look over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Demi standing off to the side, water bottle in hand. Her eyes lit up when she saw me trailing behind Jack, my hand still securely set in his. She immediately raised her thumb and pinky and mimed a phone, mouthing something at me from a distance. I squinted, trying to figure out what she was saying, but by that time Jack had opened up the door and pulled me out onto the front lawn.

The moment we were out of the crowd, he dropped my hand. I nervously brushed my palm against my skirt like I had been doing earlier. Oh, God. Please tell me that he hadn't thought my hand was clammy and gross. Trying my best to avoid his gaze, I looked out over the front yard of the frat house. When we'd first walked up, the party had already been in full swing. The only way we'd known that, though, was because Marc lived here and Julia knew the house like the back of her hand. And the music shaking the windows helped. But now, the party was evident in the trash covering the wildly growing lawn. The music still thumped out of the house erratically, but at least out here it wasn't deafening as much as annoying. Jack motioned to the entire lawn, and I sighed before taking a seat right where I was standing – on the pathway leading up to the house. There was no way I was going to sit in that grass. With my luck, I'd end up sitting on a broken bottle and having to get a tetanus shot.

Jack, looking amused, plopped down next to me. He sat cross-legged while I tried to fold my legs underneath me. The skirt was far too uncomfortable. Now I remembered why I usually refused to wear them. It didn't help that Demi's boots squeezed my calves, cutting off blood circulation. I started to feel a little inferior just because I couldn't get settled. Finally, I kicked my legs out straight in front of me and smoothed my hands over the tulle. The sidewalk was chilly underneath my legs, goose flesh rising on my skin. In the lights coming off the house and from the streetlamps, I decided that my knees looked particularly knobby.

"It's so stuffy in there," he said suddenly. Outside, he didn't need to yell out to me. The windows behind us kept flashing with strobe lights and different colors, and I could still hear the music, but it was muffled almost to the point beyond recognition. He didn't have to yell to be heard out here. In fact, he said the words very quietly. It gave me a chance to really listen to his voice – warm and bright, like the sun. He sounded like someone who was usually very happy.

"Tell me about it," I replied. "Demi asked me to come with her. I thought about skipping out on it, you know, but…." I trailed off. I didn't need to delve into Demi's past. It was hers, not mine, and I had no rights to talk about it. "But she convinced me to come anyway."

"You looked a little out of your league in there." He commented.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to have heard that, since he'd said it so quietly, but I still answered. "Yeah, well, it is. I have this contract with my dad, see." I began. I wanted to tell myself to stop, because no one, especially hot guys, wanted to hear about a girl's overprotective father. "Basically, it says no parties, no boys, no drinking, no drugs… the majority of it I wouldn't have ever done in the first place, but he's covering the basics."

Jack leaned back on his hands. "Overprotective?" He asked.

"Very." I said, pulling a long piece of grass from the lawn. I rolled it in between my thumb and forefinger. Almost like Demi, Jack had that quality that just made me open up and tell him everything. I'd already hinted at my dad, and if I wasn't careful, I was going to start spilling my life story to a guy that I barely knew. "This is like, my first party _ever_." I admitted.

"Even throughout high school?"

I nodded. "Even then. I was invited to ones, sure, but rarely. Everyone knew that I was probably going to be locked in my room on a Friday night with my school books. And my dad always wanted to know where I was going and who I was going to be with. Once, I told him that I was going to a party, and he asked if the guy's parents were there, 'cause he wanted to meet them. It was so horrifying that I decided not to go."

"That must have sucked."

I looked up at him. My friends back home were like me for the most part. The majority of them were AP students like myself. A lot of them had been taking college courses since their sophomore or junior year. Sure, some of them thought that my dad was a little overbearing, but after meeting Miranda, they all agreed that he had reason to be. None of them had really come out, though, and said that my lack of social skills and the reason behind it _sucked_.

Almost as if he was reading my mind, he said, "No offense, or anything."

"None taken. I think," I replied. I leaned back, copying Jack. I bit my lip and looked up at the sky, into the stars dotting the expanse. There was so much light around that it was sort of hard to see them, but I knew they were there. I continued to search until I found a little of the moon, bright against the night. If I squinted, I could see the shadow of craters on the surface. Sometimes, I really did think that the moon looked like cheese.

We sat quietly for a moment, and I almost felt… at peace. It was weird. It was a type of calmness and content that I couldn't remember all that well. It was one of those moments where you sat there and everything felt almost surreal. Jack spoke, but instead of his voice breaking the silence, it just accompanied what I was feeling, almost like it belonged there. "What are you squinting at so hard?"

I couldn't help but smile a little ruefully. "The moon," I answered softly. Almost like I wasn't speaking at all. At least I hadn't said anything else embarrassing. "Do you think they ever really thought it was made of cheese?" Well, never mind then. I seemed to pour every ounce of stupid in my body to every reply that I made.

Jack snorted. At first, I thought he was laughing at me. I glanced over at him, fully prepared to see his handsome face sneering at me. Instead, he looked very serious. "I thought it was made of cheese when I was a kid. I don't know if I would have ever believed that it wasn't until my sixth grade teacher sat me down and handed me a piece of moon rock. Now, I think it was one of those souvenirs you get from museums. But it was the only thing that made me believe differently."

I couldn't help it; I broke out into a laugh. Jack smiled. He didn't look bothered by the fact that I laughed. In fact, he looked pleased. Maybe he was the type of guy that liked to laugh and joke, even at his own expense. I shifted in my seat a little bit and brushed a small pebble off my leg. "Thanks," I said suddenly, sincerely.

"For what?"

"For making me laugh. And for not being one of those crazy drunks in there." I pointed to the frat house with my thumb, throwing it over my shoulder.

Jack shrugged. "I don't drink. But my friend needs someone to drag his sorry butt back to his apartment, so I'm the designated driver."

I opened my mouth to answer him when my phone vibrated in my boot. If I was inside, it probably wouldn't have been heard. But out here, I could hear the sound of it against the leather of Demi's boots. I stopped before even saying a word, my eyes shooting down to it. Jack must have heard it, too, because he looked down at the shoe. "My, uh, phone," I explained, reaching down to grab it. It was wedged between my ankle and the boot. The surface of it was almost slick with perspiration. Gross.

Finally, I managed to pull it out. I tried to inconspicuously rub it across my skirt. Moving my thumb across the screen, I found that I'd gotten a text message… from Demi. Without thinking about it, I opened it up. SEE, she wrote, I TOLD YOU SOMEONE WOULD TAKE YOU HOME. I immediately replied that we were just talking out on the front lawn. When I looked up, Jack was looking at me with a cocked eyebrow. It only made my cheeks flame even more.

"You didn't read that, did you?" I asked.

"No," he answered. He seemed sincere. "Why?" The smile that grew on his face was more like a smirk. "Was it about me?"

"_No_," I said, a little too quickly. We both knew that it was a lie. I sighed heavily and looked away from him. "Demi wanted to know where I was, that's all." This time, the lie was smoother.

Jack just shrugged and returned to gazing out on the street. The area the frat house was located was predominantly for college students – apartment buildings and houses that were almost always up for rent. The good thing about a neighborhood like this one was that we knew the neighbors wouldn't complain about a party. The bad thing was that the cops _knew_ this was a college-populated area, so they tended to concentrate their patrols a little more heavily around here. But then again, if you were a law-abiding citizen like me, there wasn't anything to really worry about.

The front door opened behind us. We both turned to look and see who it was. It was past midnight, now, so there were people that were just now arriving. What I hadn't expected to see, though, was Julia being held up between Marcie and Demi. Her cat ears were falling forward over her eyes, and she had an easily drunk smile on her face. I hadn't expected her to get plastered that quickly. Demi caught sight of me and Jack sitting on the walkway. Her eyes flashed with momentary confusion, but then she plastered a smile on her face and slyly brushed some of her curly hair out of her eyes.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to keep my too-short skirt covering everything as I rushed forward. Even though Julia was sometimes the mean one, she was still my friend. And she would definitely hate herself in the morning. The least I could do was help make sure she got to her dorm room. I might even feel saintly enough to leave some ibuprofen on her desk, since we all knew she'd be nursing a pounding headache in the morning.

"She did a keg stand," she explained. "Several times. After that, she threw up on some skanky junior." Demi seemed a little amused. As she spoke, I could smell the alcohol on her breath. I knew when I got into this, of course, that I was going to be the designated driver, just like Jack was, even though we hadn't driven over here. I suddenly realized how much harder it was going to be to maneuver three other coeds to our dorm, even if Demi only had one drink. Marcie seemed to be pretty intact, too, which was a good thing. The more coherent my collection of friends, the better.

Julia groaned, and I glanced over my shoulder. To my surprise, Jack had gotten up and was standing right behind me, looking like he was about to offer his assistance. I forced out an awkward smile and said, "Come on, let's get her home." I stepped aside so Demi and Marcie could maneuver Julia down the sidewalk. As they walked past, I turned to look at Jack. "Thanks for hanging out with me," I said. "You can get back to the party now."

Jack looked like he was going to say something, but I brushed past him and hurried to catch up to Demi and the others, tottering on the boots for a moment before catching my balance. As I walked away, I realized that I'd never gotten Jack's last name. For all I knew, this would be the last time that I ever saw him. I debated turning around and telling him to call me or something. But as I looked back, I couldn't see him on the front lawn. Maybe he had gone back inside, after all. Maybe he didn't really even want to keep in contact with me.

That made sense; we barely knew each other. So I was going to accept it – thank God I hadn't actually turned around. That would have been a momentary lapse in judgment. My dad had always said to never give random guys my cell phone number. This could be the last time I'd see Jack. I couldn't care less. At least, that's what I told myself.

**Well? Leave me a review in the box below! Thanks for reading! Peace (:**


	3. The Best Friend

**Guest – Oh, so you noticed my not-so-subtle attempt to set up the entire plot. This pleases me. (:**

**cupcakemania22 – I'm so socially awkward that I thought it would only be fitting if Katie were, too. Lol.**

**Caroline Guirmz – Argentina? Sounds super exciting!**

**Sorry about the longer-than-a-week update. I was hit by the flu Monday and have been in bed since. This is the first time I've sat down at the computer in days, and I feel like I've almost forgotten how to type (but typing is like riding a bike, I tell you, you always remember!) Anyway, that's my excuse. Sorry again! Now, enjoy:**

**The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.**

_3: The Best Friend_

Jack

I didn't even know her last name. All I knew was her first – Katie. She looked like a Katie, somehow. I didn't know if it was the hair, with a hint of cherry red when the flashing lights caught it just right, or if it was the interesting shade of hazel in her eyes. She just _seemed_ like a Katie. Simple. Cute. On the surface, a little awkward, but underneath, she was a well of information and, I could tell, _interesting_ things. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen someone with a spark like that.

Sitting on top of one of the tables in the courtyard, I watched the crowds that passed. My eyes roved over every single girl that walked by me. I'd never realized how many slightly petite, auburn-haired girls there were on this campus. Not until, I guessed, I was looking for one in particular. But none of them were her. They were all laughing, or drinking coffee on their break between classes. A few of them smiled at me when they caught me looking, and one of them even approached me, sashaying her hips back and forth. She introduced herself as Megan. She had thirty minutes until her next class. When her time was up, she told me to find her on Facebook, and then she was gone.

By mid-morning, there was still no sign of Katie. I knew that I wasn't going to find her right away. The campus was big, and there were lots of students. Not everyone passed by here. I had no idea what dorm she was in, so I had no idea what dining hall she was near. I knew she was in pre-med, but I didn't know for sure if she was a freshman, so I didn't know what classes she was taking. I didn't even know her last name. I hadn't thought to ask. And now it wasn't like I could walk up to someone and ask if they knew her. I couldn't even search for her on the internet. _Katie_ wasn't exactly a unique name.

I leaned forward, eyeing my simple black backpack that sat between my feet. I didn't know why I was looking for her so hard. I shouldn't even be looking at all. If she were like me, I would've recognized her from reunification. But I didn't, which meant she was off limits. I'd held her hand that night, I remembered, but nothing had happened. Nothing at all. So I guess even though I had an unrealistic interest in a girl I just met, she wasn't the one. That meant that I should just pack up my stuff and forget about her. And even though that thought was correct by Ace standards, it actually hurt a little to think it. I didn't want to leave Katie behind.

I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket, steeling myself for another arduous Facebook search. At first, I hoped that Katie would be easy to find. Maybe we had mutual friends, or she came from my hometown. I hoped that there was _something_ to tie us together. But none of the pictures I found matched her face. No golden green eyes, no auburn hair, no nervous smile that told me she was brilliant but awkward.

I typed in "Katie" to the search bar and waited for my results to show up. I'd already decided to try different spellings, like "Katy" or "Kaitee" or anything else I could think of. I continued to flick through the results, squinting at faces, trying to block the sun, hoping that, soon, I would find her face smiling up at me. I just wanted to know her last name; I wanted to know that I could find her. I wanted to know that she wasn't just a figment of my imagination, a hope that I would eventually find someone the way my parents had found each other, the way my older brother, Derek, found his soul mate.

"Jack?" I wasn't prepared for anybody I knew to find me. I jumped a little, slipping my finger over the home button on my phone, trying to hide my dirty secret. I looked up sharply, partially hoping that my sitting aimlessly had finally paid off and Katie stood before me. But instead, it was my sister-in-law, Emily. Emily and Derek met a year ago, when they imprinted in her mother's music shop. Emily wasn't from an Ace family, but it hadn't taken her long to fall into the groove of it. She didn't seem to have any trouble taking the information in stride, and rarely seemed to doubt her imprint with Derek. Even better, she was fun to tease and was always quick with a comeback.

"Emily," I said. She used to be deaf, but after the two of them ascended, Derek's touch had healed whatever had ruptured in her ears almost completely. My distant Uncle Max had used his abilities to teach Derek and me and the rest of our family to understand sign language before they ascended, and we still used it sometimes when we thought matters were better discussed silently.

She smirked and sat down next to me, setting her books aside. Her hands made quick motions. I noticed that some of the other students were watching. One of them even had a look on his face that hit me the wrong way. It almost felt like he was staring at her because he thought she couldn't speak and was therefore stupid. I repressed the urge to stand up and pound him into the dirt. It was Derek's job to protect her because she was his significant, but she was my sister-in-law, and family ties made me want to protect her as if she were my own blood sister.

"Why do you look so down?" She signed out to me. I shrugged. If there was anybody that I could trust, it was Emily. My family was made up of Aces, and we followed Ace rules, one of them being that we did not date anyone. We didn't want to date someone whom we hadn't imprinted with and fall in love with them, because in the end, if we were to imprint with someone else, they'd be left behind like a used tissue. An imprint always overshadowed whatever love a person had already formed and could never be breeched. It was a rule that I understood and had never bothered to go against.

But there was a part of me, I admitted, that wanted to pursue Katie. I wanted to find out what made her who she was. I wanted to know everything she could teach me, and I wanted to discover her nervous tics, the things that made her laugh, what she was scared of and what she loved more than anything else in the entire world. As I watched her leave the night of the Halloween party, a part of me had wondered if we had imprinted. But she'd been able to turn around and walk away from me, and in the morning, I felt perfectly fine. If I was being honest, I was a little upset that I didn't feel like I'd been run over by a truck.

Emily nudged me in the side. "Jack?" She asked out loud. Her eyes were full of concern. Emily had easily become one of the Stanton clan. I eyed the disc hanging around her neck with a three-pointed flame, our family crest, a gift that Derek had given her. I looked down at the half-flame emblazoned on her wrist with Derek's name outlining it, and the tiny figure eight on the inside. We had honestly thought that imprints no longer existed. Then our Visionary had appeared, tethered to a Jacobson. Caleb was technically my cousin, because mom hailed from the Jacobson clan, but I only saw her side of the family at reunification. Not long after that, Derek imprinted with Emily. It gave the rest of us hope that we would someday find our perfect match, because being an Ace meant nothing without a significant.

"I'm fine," I said. She gave me a look that said she didn't believe me. Emily and I had quickly grown to be good friends. She was the same age as me, so I felt like we were able to understand each other in a way that my younger sister Madison couldn't. "I'm just thinking about someone." I added without meaning to.

Emily's gaze hardened. If she was a normal human being, she might've been happy for me. Poor Jack Stanton hadn't had a single date in twenty years of life. That had to be a record somewhere. But she was an Ace, now, and a good one at that. She followed all the rules religiously, though they were still being tinkered with. The Visionary had pretty much destroyed the old council and was rebuilding a new one, so none of us were too clear about what was right and wrong on some things. But one thing that was for sure: Aces were not allowed to date.

"Jack," she said, her voice low, warning me. "You can't do this. I'm sure your…" she lowered her voice even further and whispered, "… imprint will come eventually. Don't give up." She shifted a little, the sun reflecting off her diamond ring. Derek had bought her a huge rock with the money he'd saved up from his band and from working countless summers as a teenager. I was pretty sure he had to ask our parents for a loan to buy her a house, which all Ace husbands were supposed to do. In our world, a house was an acceptable wedding gift from groom to bride.

"I haven't given up." I said indignantly. "I just… met someone." After a moment, I shrugged. "You know what, it's nothing. She's just a girl, and I'm just stuck here waiting."

"Jack," Emily sighed. I'd learned that she was a really empathetic person. She was always concerned with what other people were feeling. I thought that it was a good quality, especially given her ability. She reached out and put a hand on my arm. To be honest, I waited to see if she was going to compel me to forget about Katie. Emily would've been beyond mad if she found out that I doubted her, for even a moment. That was her biggest fear, I'd heard her say, that other people were going to just assume that she'd use her ability against them to further herself.

"How'd you know that you were interested in Derek, before you two even imprinted?" I interrupted before she could say anything else. She looked around to see if anyone had overheard my outburst. We'd probably sound crazy to anyone who heard us talking about imprints, soul mates, and abilities.

Emily cleared her throat. She hadn't had to tell this story in a long time; it was usually told right after an imprint. The only person that would probably continue to ask her was my little sister, Madison. She was the youngest of five kids, and the only one still in high school. Madison looked up to Emily and attempted to spend every waking moment lingering in my sister-in-law's shadow. "When he first walked into the music shop, he commanded my attention. I couldn't look away from him. And that first time when he left, I was actually a little depressed over it. At the time, I thought I was crazy, because what kind of person is sad that a stranger has left?" She mused. A smile touched her lips, and she looked away from me, remembering the day that had changed her life forever. "And that next time he came in, I was just _so_ excited to see him. It really didn't make any sense. I was just hopelessly attracted to him. Everyone dulled in comparison." She said.

I sighed. She nudged me with her elbow. "I met Katie at the Halloween frat party," I told her. "She ran into me and spilled my soda all over my shirt." I didn't miss Emily's smile, and I didn't miss the way she tried to hide it. She had high hopes for me, but didn't want me to get any ideas. "I really liked her, right off the bat. She was just so… pretty. And awkward, like she had no idea how pretty she really was. And then she left, and it was just like you said. I was sad that she left. I didn't even get her last name."

"Sounds a little bit like what I felt for Derek, doesn't it?" She said, more to herself than to me. "And you have no idea where she is?" I shook my head. "Well, I'm sure you'll find her eventually. Significants are drawn to each other, even when they haven't imprinted yet." She said. "Derek said sometimes they know they're going to imprint, even before they do."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter, Emily. I held her hand last night. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I still pretended to hope, and when I woke up this morning, I was fine. I didn't imprint with her, so she can't be the one."

She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know what it's like to sit there and wait, but I can imagine. You'll find her eventually. I'm sure of it."

I opened my mouth to tell her that I wasn't so sure when I sensed someone's eyes on me. I looked up, my eyes scanning the area around me. I was looking for Katie's auburn hair. Emily was also staring at me, but I ignored her and searched for the girl that had managed to turn my brain inside out. But I didn't see her anywhere. I was already starting to slouch back when I realized that someone _was_ looking at me, but it wasn't an auburn-haired girl. My eyes had just scanned over her because she didn't have the hair color I was looking for.

"Hi," she said brightly. I had to take a second look at her before it dawned on me who she was. She was the blonde, Katie's best friend and roommate. She looked different without the glittery dress and the cowboy boots on. Her hair was still blonde and wildly curly, and her eyes were piercing blue, but she'd gotten rid of the bright red lipstick. That was probably for the better, in my opinion. I struggled to remember her name. I didn't have to wait long, though. "I'm Demi, remember? From the Halloween party?"

I nodded. "Right," I said, pretending to be aloof. "Katie's roommate," I added for extra proof. Emily was sitting as still as a statue next to me. I knew without even looking over her that she was assessing the situation. Emily had grown extremely protective of both me and Madison, even though I was older than her by a few months. As my only sister-in-law, though, I guess she had a claim to it.

"And her best friend," Demi said. "Don't forget that." She shifted her books from one arm to the other. She eyed Emily. I introduced her as my sister-in-law, and that seemed to relax Demi a little. "Listen, Katie would kill me if she knew I was talking to you, but she didn't say much about you, no matter how many times I asked. And I know you didn't hook up, because you two were just sitting on the sidewalk outside." Emily coughed to cover up her shock at Demi's blatancy. "Anyway, I don't know what her deal was. The only thing that I could think of was that she was sad that you didn't text her or anything."

"I don't have her number," I replied. "I don't even know her last name."

Demi gave a tiny snort. It was actually kind of funny, but I held back a laugh. While Katie seemed awkward and shy, I had the feeling that if I offended Demi, she wouldn't hesitate to deck me. And I'd rather not get hit by a girl. "And I thought I taught her better than that. Here, find me on Facebook. Demi Westmoore," she said. "And that's Demi with a _D-E-M-I_." She said, like she had trouble with people misspelling it. As far as I knew, that was the only way to spell Demi.

I unlocked my phone. It was already open to Facebook. I'd already typed _K-A_ into the search bar. Quickly deleting it, I typed in Demi's name and waited for the page to load. Demi confirmed which profile was hers. "Katie's on my friend list. Her last name's Carlton." She said. "But I'm warning you. I helped you now, but if you break my Katie's heart, I'll break your face." Her face was dark and serious for just a moment before it was replaced with a bright, peppy smile. "Ta-ta," she called out she left. I watched her go. In all honesty, that girl was a bit scary.

Sitting next to me, Emily finally spoke up. "She reminds me of Tory. Scary, huh?"

"Extremely," I agreed.

She smiled at me and checked the time. "I've got to go. I'm working the afternoon shift at my mom's shop." She said. Even though Emily was a Stanton now, she insisted on working with her mother. Most of the time, the family worked in the family business, but we were all willing to make an exception for her. She laid a hand on my arm. "Don't do anything you'll regret, Jack."

I gave her a salute. "I'll do my best."

# # #

I had never been the type of person that struggled to make a decision. It was usually easy for me. I just had to weigh the good versus the bad, and it was usually obvious which direction I should take. That was how I did everything in my life, from the classes I signed up for to the things that I chose to do during my free time, even to the people I hung out with. For me, first impressions were the strongest defining factor in a friendship. If I didn't like them in the first few minutes, it was bound to fail. I'd gotten used to the fact that no decision was hard. A plus B equals C.

But there I was, sitting in my Intro to Philosophy class, blocking out the lecture on Descartes' meditations because I was too busy thinking about a certain auburn-haired, hazel-eyed girl. I couldn't get her out of my head. And that wasn't good. I'd grown up my entire life being reminded of the rules. I wasn't supposed to befriend any of the members of our rival clan, the Tuckers. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, even my closest friends, about the Aces. I wasn't supposed to date anyone, no matter how attracted I was to them. The imprints were starting to come back, but they still weren't commonplace yet. Even my sister Carissa, who was getting closer to thirty with every year that passed, hadn't imprinted. She was past the prime imprint age, and it was unclear if she ever would imprint. I didn't want that to be me. As lame as it sounded, I wanted a chance.

I tapped my pen on my notebook. The page was glaringly blank. I usually took a lot of notes in this class, though they were sloppy and often didn't make any sense. Still, then I was listening. I had to pull at least a _C_ in this class, or my parents would be beyond angry. I tried to push thoughts of breaking the rules out of my head. I tried to focus, and even wrote down _total skepticism_ before my mind wandered back exactly where I didn't want it to go.

The deepest, more rebellious parts of me said to screw the rules and do whatever I wanted. But I didn't want to form a relationship with Katie and risk imprinting later, because then I'd have no choice but to leave her. And that was if she even wanted to have a relationship with me. I shouldn't have assumed that she wanted anything to do with me. Maybe she found me annoying, or disgusting, or completely against anything she'd ever want. Demi hadn't said that, but she did say that Katie hadn't talked about me much. Don't girls usually talk too much if they're interested in someone?

My mind continued to make circles – to break the rules or not to break the rules? – until the class time was up. I stuffed my spiral into my backpack and shot out of my chair. I needed a coffee or something. I needed to find Gil and the others, because they would take my mind off of Katie. I needed to think about it more, I decided, even though I didn't want to. I couldn't afford to take a risk. If they found out that I'd been dating someone, my family would probably be shamed for it. It just wasn't done, because it always ended up causing trouble.

And the out of proportion feelings didn't constitute to a fling, which wasn't allowed, either. I rubbed my hand over my forehead as I headed down the hallway and out into the quad. Across the way was one of the student dining halls, the best one, if you asked me. They had a Starbucks in there. Gil and the guys tended to hang out there when they didn't want to go to class because the barista, Aimee, was hot.

Starbucks had its own nook in the dining hall; it connected on the other side to one of the libraries. Aimee usually played indie rock when it was her shift, and sometimes played a recording from _Triple Threat Touchdowns_, my brother's band. The room was filled with mismatched couches and chairs and tables, and made studying not seem like such a chore, somehow. I pushed open the door. Sure enough in the back corner I could see my friends. Gil and Jeremy were in the same year as me. Charlie was a year younger, Blake was a year older. "Jack!" Gil shouted out despite the fact that there was a "Quiet Please" sign intermittently taped to the walls. Aimee gave him a dark look but didn't reprimand him. We all thought she had a thing for him.

"What's up?" I called back as I went to the line. I really, really needed a caffeine infusion. We'd just had midterms, and most of my classes were moving in full force, determined to make headway before we all slacked off at the end of the semester.

Aimee gave me a look, too, but she didn't say anything until I got up to the counter. "The regular?" She asked, picking up a cappuccino cup. She was already scribbling my name across it in swirly letters.

"You got it," I replied. She made my change and I dropped a dollar into the tip jar, like I always did for Aimee, and went to stand at the opposite end of the bar while she made my coffee. I heard the guys talking about some other party coming up this weekend. I remembered that last year, at the party of the same name, there had been a huge fight between two fraternities. I'd only seen a part of the fight, and it had kind of been awesome.

Aimee placed the drink in front of me. Before she stepped away, I reached out and put my hand on her wrist. She paused and looked up at me. She really was pretty – light brown hair, big blue eyes, and a curvy body. "Gil's an idiot," I told her, "but he's a nice guy." I raised my eyebrows pointedly. Her cheeks flushed bright pink for a moment.

"Thanks," she said quietly. Louder, she said, "Have a great day." But her smile was more pronounced. Maybe my nonexistent love life sucked, but maybe I could land Gil a date with a girl that he really liked but would never admit to, because he didn't want to be teased the way we teased Blake about being whipped. I grinned back and gave her a quick wink.

"What'd you say to Aimee, man?" Gil asked when I sat down.

"Told her you were an idiot," I said truthfully. He glared, but then he laughed. Maybe hanging out with them would give me the break my brain needed, and I could make a decision then.

**Woohoo, first chapter in Jack's POV completed. He's harder to write than Katie is. I think you'll notice that the majority of this will be written in Katie's POV, because for some reason, I like it better. Whatever. I'm weird.**

**Thanks for reading. Leave me a review, my minions. Peace. (:**


	4. Friend Requests

**Ialiceiamagoddess – Thanks!**

**gossipghurl – Working on it ;)**

**cupcakemania22 – Thanks! Girls are so much easier to write. I mean, that's probably because **_**I'm**_** a girl, lol. I'm trying to write from the guys' view more often. Even one of my personal works is completely in the guys' POV, and it's definitely challenging!**

**Guest – I honestly thought about that, I did. I've already written all the chapters, and they're all in a single POV. I **_**did**_** do alternating POVs within the chapter in one of my Darkest Powers fanfic, but I started to confuse myself. Lol!**

**minion – Many thanks!**

**butterballs – I know who you are…. **

**The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.**

_4: Friend Requests_

Katie

"You did _what_?" I crowed. Demi flopped onto her bed, kicking off her shoes. One of them nearly hit me as I turned to face her from my desk chair. I had a ridiculous amount of homework for my chemistry class that I needed to finish. I hadn't been able to focus as easily as usual. I figured it was probably because I had a handsome guy stuck on my mind. I'd just been able to get rid of him, too, when Demi walked in and announced that she had seen Jack in the quad and had proceeded to tell him how to find me on Facebook.

"I friended him on Facebook. He should've asked you to be his friend by now. I accepted his request on the way to class." She said nonchalantly. Demi's bed was unmade, like usual, completely opposite from my military-style bed, which I swore you could bounce a quarter off of. All of my things were neatly in place, from my books to my binders. My desk was nearly spotless, with only my laptop, a squat office lamp, and my reusable plastic tumbler with its curly purple straw. At first, Demi's hatred of keeping her side of the room clean and organized gave me heart palpitations, but eventually, I quelled the urge to clean up after her, and my whole life was more harmonious because of it. At least, I liked to pretend it was.

"Did it ever occur to you that I didn't _want_ to keep in contact with him?" I asked. We both knew it was a total lie, but what did that matter? I'd embarrassed myself in front of him, poured his soda over him, and acted like a complete idiot. There was a reason my only real boyfriend had been Garrett Carlisle, valedictorian, genius, and super sweet but extremely awkward guy. The two of us had practically been thrown together, though sometimes I thought it was more than that, like maybe Garrett only dated me because I was the only girl in the top ten of our class. Maybe dad had been right, and I should just swear off guys all together and live as a nun.

"Nope," Demi reached into the huge plastic bowl she kept on our mini-fridge, right next to her bed. She was a sugar addict and never went far without a miniature bag of candy in her purse. She withdrew one of the good lollipops, the heart-shaped ones that they sold for Valentine's Day, and ripped off the plastic, which she dropped back into the bowl. "You'd be insane to not want to talk to him. He's _hot_. I asked around. His brother's in a band. I can't remember the name, but it has something to do with football."

"Just because his brother's in a band doesn't make him hot," I said indignantly.

"No," she agreed, "but two hot brothers means that the whole family's probably hot. You should see Jack's sister-in-law. She looks like a total beauty queen. You know, in one of those naturally pretty ways that makes me just hate the world?" She complained. She rolled over, eyeing the way the BE MINE on her sucker was starting to melt off. "Pretty people make me sad."

I struggled not to laugh. Demi was always making side comments about "pretty people," but she didn't seem to realize that she _was_ one of those people. She was practically flawless. It used to make me nervous, sitting next to her. But I got over it quickly enough. Every supermodel has an average best friend. Of course, if I told her that, Demi would just roll her eyes and say that I was beautiful, I just lacked confidence in myself. It was one of the reasons I loved her. She had never made me feel bad about myself, unlike Julia. Julia was able to make someone feel bad about themselves without really meaning to.

"Stop giggling," Demi shouted, "and check your freaking Facebook page! You're such a procrastinator," she added. She laughed at her own joke, because she knew as well as I did that it wasn't true. If anyone was a victim of procrastination, it was Demi. She always told me that there was an alternate reason that we were roommates: she needed me to keep her on track, away from parties and television and sleeping and anything else she could think of to avoid schoolwork.

"Can I finish my chemistry homework first?" I asked. Demi was well aware of the fact that chemistry was my hardest subject. I'd even had a warning that it was harder than most classes, as a basic prerequisite for pre-med. Biology was no problem for me, and physics had been simple enough, but chemistry was one that I struggled to wrap my brain around. I'd barely made an A in the honors class in high school. Garrett had tutored me.

"It'll just take a second. Just get on and see if he sent you a friend request, and we can do a little snooping, and then you can go back to your chemistry. When is that due, anyway? Two weeks from now?" I made a face at her, but she was almost right, though it was closer to one week than two. And I still had my research paper to work on. I'd decided to tackle chemistry first and get that out of the way, so the paper would be a breeze.

"Fine," I snapped, caving in to her pressure. Back home, there was a house rule that we couldn't use the computer for leisure unless our homework was completed. Miranda had broken it all the time, to the point where dad started to change the passwords every now and then, just to throw her off. It used to make Miranda mad enough that she threatened to run away. I pulled my laptop closer and touched the mouse pad, waking it from its hibernation. My screensaver was a very mature shot of some flower petals. It was one of the pictures that came already preloaded onto the computer.

I opened up Facebook and signed in. Like always, Demi paid extra attention when I typed in my password, but I was extremely careful. It was a mix of letters and numbers which made sense to me, but probably not to anyone else. Dad always told me to err on the side of caution with everything, and with the way identities were being stolen off the internet nowadays, I did my best to confuse any wannabe Katie Carltons. Sure enough, the moment I was logged in, I saw that I had a new friend request. I didn't get online very often, and Jack probably would've sat on my request list for weeks before I bothered to check it.

"Jack Stanton," Demi read out loud. She reached over me and quickly clicked _Accept_. She scrolled up and clicked on his name, loading his profile page. Jack looked handsome in his profile picture, though I still thought that he looked better in real life. He was out by a pool, wearing navy blue swim trunks that had lighter blue swirls on them. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which Demi thought was extremely hot. In his hand, he held a glass of what looked to be lemonade. The sunglasses he'd been wearing were dangling from the fingers of his other hand. He was smirking into the camera. The photo alone was enough to make my heart do a little pitter-patter beat.

Demi pushed me aside and sat on the edge of my desk chair. She quickly started reading up on him. Jack had a substantial amount of friends – less than Demi, but more than me – and the majority of them were listed as having gone to his high school. He had college listed, and for his job it said "office grunt/mechanic at Virtuous Cars." He had only posted a few pictures; most of them were posted by other people, and he was just tagged. The majority of them were with friends, but there were several that had family members included. Demi flicked through the TV shows, movies, and bands whose pages he'd liked, and then we went over his profile wall. It seemed like he only got on sparingly. There were only a handful of names that appeared on repeat – Gil, Charlie, Aimee, Blake, Jeremy, Emily, and Madison. Emily and Madison both had the last name Stanton, so they must've been family members.

"I think we've crossed the line from just curious to being stalkers," I told her. It felt weird to learn things about him online instead of in person. Was this how people felt when they did online dating? Not that I was dating Jack or anything. My cheeks flushed just thinking about it, and I twisted my hair in front of my face, hoping that Demi wouldn't notice. She would tease me forever.

"Oh whatever," she replied. She clicked on one of the names – Gil Bauman – and started searching through his photos. She let out a low whistle. "Hot boys," she said without looking at me, "hot boys everywhere."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "I need to do my chemistry homework. And I've still got a research paper to write." I told her. She'd pulled my laptop over my chemistry book, and was still scrolling through Gil's profile page. I nudged her in the side with my elbow. She sighed dramatically and took a hold of my laptop, lifting it over my head and plopping it down on my bed. She got comfortable among my pillows and continued to stalk Jack and all of his friends.

I tugged my chemistry book closer to me and attempted to work out the problems. It was suddenly harder to focus, though, with Demi sitting right there, getting the dirt on the guy that had managed to make me forgo some of the rules my dad had laid down for me. The click of the computer mouse seemed so loud and obnoxious. Finally, I just shoved my homework away, since I _did_ have at least a week to work on it, and searched my carefully organized shelves to see if there was anything else I could work on. Chemistry was out, I thought as I put the binder back into its place, and my research paper could wait, especially since Demi had my laptop. Plus it shouldn't take me very long to slam it out, two hours at the most. Biology was an option. French would be a breeze; I almost felt like I was cheating because I already spoke it fluently. Psychology was always an interesting course. I'd always liked the brain, but I wasn't looking at being a neurosurgeon. Working in the trauma center, though, might be fun.

"Hey," Demi said suddenly, waving me over. "This is the girl Jack was talking to when I saw him. It's his sister-in-law, Emily." She told me. I climbed onto the bed next to her as she pulled up Emily's pictures. Demi was right, the girl certainly was pretty, and definitely in the way that made you feel insecure about yourself. Her eyes were stormy blue-gray, like I'd always wanted mine to be, instead of their odd yellow-green, like the crayon that every kid avoided using in the crayon box. Her hair was also jet black and sleek, like she never had a hair out of place. Jealousy blurred through me. "I told you she was one of those pretty people." Demi said.

I made a noise of agreement and got off the bed. Demi continued to click through the pictures. I went to her side of the room, where we had a shelving unit set up that held all of our food. The top two shelves were Demi's, since she was taller, and the next two were mine, and the bottom was used for our cases of soda and gallons of water. Like always, my shelves were heavily stocked, as if I thought that there was going to be an apocalypse sometime soon and I'd need food resources. Demi's, however, was pitiful. I'd gotten into the groove of Demi begging me for Ramen noodles when she forgot to go to the grocery store. She always repaid in bags of candy, so I didn't mind too much.

"You need to go shopping," I told her as I grabbed my large box of Goldfish. I opened it up and looked inside before grabbing a handful.

"Ooh," Demi said brightly. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I haven't gone shopping in _forever_. I need some new shoes, you know. I left all my boots at home, because I couldn't fit them in my suitcase. Mom said I could pick them up at Thanksgiving, but right now all I have are sandals and my gym sneakers. And those cowboy boots I bought, but I can't wear those every day."

"I was talking about grocery shopping." I replied without turning to look at her. "All you have is a few boxes of Poptarts, some popcorn, and a couple packets of Ramen." I didn't even know why Demi had two shelves. The only time they were ever occupied was right after she went to the grocery store, and usually they were swept out pretty quickly. Demi was a snacker, and didn't really eat full meals. She had a measly meal card for the dining hall, though it didn't matter much because the only thing that they served that was good was the pizza and ice cream, according to her.

"We'll make a deal. You come clothes shopping with me, and I'll go grocery shopping." She said. We both knew that clothes shopping with Demi meant that I'd be forced to try on clothes that I would've never even thought about buying. My roommate always said that my style was nonexistent, since all I ever wore were jeans and T-shirts and my sister's old shoes.

"I think you win either way."

"A win's a win." She answered without missing a beat. She didn't even give me a chance to reply before she rolled off my bed. "Come on. Me, you, and Marcie."

"What about Julia?" I asked. There were times when Julia got on my nerves more than anybody else, but she was still a friend. She was a little naïve and spoiled and didn't realize that other people had other opinions, but I couldn't condemn her for being selfish. And even when she made me feel bad about myself without realizing it, she'd stood up for me in the past.

"It's Friday," Demi intoned, giving me a look like I should've known better. "Since she dropped that class, she'll be sleeping until noon at least, and she told me that Marc's taking her out for dinner tonight. After that, they'll find another party to crash."

She had a point there. I already had my class for this Friday. The majority of my classes were Monday through Thursday, and I had a bio lab early on Friday mornings, so after that, I was free until Monday. Demi put out her lower lip and pretended to sniffle. "Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'll go with you. But I can't promise anything."

"I'm texting Marcie," she replied, grabbing her phone off the end of her bed before disappearing into our shared closet to change.

# # #

The mall was huge and ancient. White tiles were permanently stained gray, carpets were worn down, and the entire place sort of smelled like sweat mixed with the aroma of whatever was cooking in the food court. Nobody else seemed as bothered by it as me, though, so I didn't say anything. Besides, if I did, Demi would say that I was just complaining because I would rather be back at the dorms. She would've been teasing, mostly, but I still didn't want to be labeled as a complainer.

Marcie walked in like she was about to embark on an adventure. Where Demi was sarcastically sweet and Julia was unknowingly cold, Marcie was disproportionately peppy. Her every step had a bounce in it and she was always smiling like she didn't have a care in the world. Or if she did, she'd just been able to figure out how to let it go. The one time we talked about it, right after we met her, Demi said it was because she had this whole southern socialite thing going on, with the way she called everyone "dear" and "sweetheart," and her put-together appearance the screamed future soccer mom. Once, when Julia had too much to drink, she asked Marcie why she styled her hair so high. Her answer: "The higher the hair the closer to Heaven."

Sometimes, Marcie was my hero.

For Marcie and Demi, shopping was like a team sport. They had a plan of all the stores they were going to hit, and how much they could spend, and what items their closets were really lacking. I lagged behind. All of this was something that I'd never really encountered before I'd left home, and something that I still hadn't even begun to master. I still felt uncomfortable buying anything without my mother's opinion on it. She'd been the one that went with me to buy everything for my big move from home to my dorm. None of my friends from high school had asked me to go shopping with them, and when we did go out, we ended up just walking around and picking up things without ever buying them.

"I want to find some boots before I get distracted by anything else," Demi said, reaching behind her to grab a hold of my arm. I let her, and she and Marcie led the way to a favorite store of Demi's. It was the kind of place that had dimmed lights and played popular love songs to keep its female customers love-struck while they debated on whether or not their boyfriends (or girlfriends, if they swung that way) would like their new outfits.

We stepped into the store and were immediately greeted by a girl that I could've sworn was in one of my classes. I couldn't remember, though, so I pretended like I was interested in the rack of clothes next to me while she asked Demi if she was looking for anything in particular. Usually, Demi wasn't afraid to have the salespeople at her beck and call, but this time she dismissed the girl was a smile and a "We're just looking, but thanks."

We drifted to the shoe section, which was covered in displays of boots, high heels, and sandals. I let my eyes gloss over them. Usually, I wore Miranda's old shoes, since she wore a size bigger than I did. I had a collection of them back home and only brought the most comfortable ones with me to college. I'd wanted to toss most of them out, or give them to charity, but mom wanted to keep at least some of them for special occasions.

"Hey, Marcie," Demi said as she pulled a box of boots out from the shelf. "Do you remember that guy that Katie was hanging out with on Halloween?" She gave me a devious look as she did so, and I felt a flush crawl over my cheeks. Demi was just joking with me, knowing that it would make me embarrassed. She knew all about the rules my dad had laid out for me when I left, and one of them was _no boys – they'll ruin your academic dedication_. Demi had snorted when she saw that one. She said she came to college because she needed a degree, sure, but the pickings were better here than they were back home.

"Oh, yeah," Marcie said, sitting down on the bench next to Demi. In her hand she had a box with some sort of strappy sandals. "Aren't these cute?" She asked, showing us the contents of the box. When Demi nodded, Marcie smiled and pulled them out of the box to try them on. She didn't look at me as she asked, "What about him? I mean, he was cute and everything, but you've never been one to date, Katie."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, partially because I wanted to seem like I was teasing her, but mostly because I wondered if I came off like that. Demi wasn't supposed to tell anyone else about the rules I had to abide by.

"I just mean that you've always been the one that's more focused on your studies, that's all." She replied nonchalantly. Luckily, she wasn't making a big deal out of it. I felt bad, though. In high school, I'd had crushes that I'd wished would notice me, because I was almost certain that I could juggle my schoolwork and a boyfriend (which, in the end, I could.) But I'd never been approached by many, and Garrett was the only guy that had explicitly asked me out. Our relationship had worked out just fine, but it never really felt like we were one of those couples that you see in romantic comedies. I just didn't want to be the girl that almost no one would date.

"Am I that bad?" I asked softly. I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but now that it was, I glanced away, too embarrassed to actually meet their gazes.

"Of course not," Marcie said. "Someone would be lucky to date you. You just have high standards that not everyone's going to meet. Like, take Marc and Julia. They're like, perfect for each other. But if you were to date Marc, both of you would be miserable because you're not interested in the same things. Not a lot of guys are going to be studying as hard as you do, especially in a college where the majority of them want to party instead. Besides, you're not the type of girl that needs a guy, and that's a _good_ thing." She smiled at me, and I relaxed a little bit. I'd just never had friends like Demi and Marcie and Julia. They wanted to go out a lot more than my high school friends did.

"Anyway," Demi jumped in, zipping up her boots. "He added her on Facebook. How perfect, right?" She said, nudging Marcie in the side.

"Oh yeah, he was cute, from what I remember. It was a little dark, though, so I couldn't see his face all that well. But he had to be a nice guy, or Katie wouldn't have given him the time of day." She said, shooting me another grin to let me know that she meant well. I smiled back, though it wasn't as big as hers. I felt better knowing that they didn't think I was a loser. They just thought I had high standards, which I could live with. It was kind of true, anyway. Garrett and I had been a good couple, mostly because our date nights could double as study sessions. Marcie was right; I wouldn't have been happy with someone like Marc, who was, some days, more oaf-like than anyone else I'd ever met.

"His entire family is _smoking_ hot," Demi said, standing up and modeling her boots. "How do they look?" She walked about five feet and turned on her heel, putting her hands on her hips and flipping her hair away from her face. "I like them."

"They look great," Marcie said. I blinked a few times. I was still a little shocked at how scatterbrained Demi could be, and I still marveled over how Marcie and Julia managed to keep up. Old conversations were lost amidst new ones in seconds flat. "You should definitely get them."

"I don't know," Demi mused. "Katie, what do you think?" She asked.

"Um, they're nice." I replied. "Brown goes with anything." I added, so I seemed like I knew what I was talking about. My mom said that a lot when we went shopping, or when she decided to give her advice on my outfit.

Demi looked down at them and smiled. "You know, you're right. I'm getting them."

**It's sort of a short chapter, and the second half is all when-girls-go-shopping chapter fluff. But you know what? I like a little fluff here and there.**

**Thanks for reading; leave me a review, because you know I love them! Peace (:**


	5. I'm So Stupid

**cupcakemania22 – Lol, thanks. Surprisingly, it got easier the further on I wrote. Every other chapter is in Jack's POV, and I kind of like him better, sometimes, haha! And yes, fluff is a must-have. I love a little bit of fluff here and there. (:**

**Guest – Thank you. And oh yes, there's something very important about Katie's relationship with Jack… muahaha!**

**Ialiceiamgoddess – Thanks!**

**minion – Why, thank you. And on a side note, I love your name. I have this weird thing where I like to call people my minions, and I can't help but think of that, haha. I think Despicable Me might've done me in…. (: **

**The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.**

_5: I'm So Stupid_

Jack

I didn't go to the mall much, but this time I had to bring Madison. Our mom's birthday was coming up, and like every year, the two of us banded together to buy her something. Madison babysat on the weekends, and that didn't get a lot of money. I worked at our local Virtuous cars as a mechanic in the shop, which wasn't the most glorious of jobs. But it was still part of the family business, and it was something that I really loved to do, so nobody could complain about it.

"What does she want?" I asked, walking past yet another store. After the first year we decided to buy something together, I said we weren't allowed to buy her clothes anymore, because I always felt stupid standing in clothing stores with Madison flicking through the racks and asking if certain things looked like mom. And that same year, she laid down the law that both of us had to be present for her gift-buying because I tried to give her money that second year, and she refused to buy something if I didn't go with her.

"Jewelry?" I suggested. What else did women like? What else did my mom like?

"We got that for her last year," Madison answered, rolling her eyes at me. "Besides, Derek told me that he and Emily picked out a bracelet with all of our birthstones on it. We've got to pick something else." She said.

"A gift card," I ventured, because what better thing to get for someone when you didn't know what they'd want?

"No! Absolutely not," Madison exclaimed, glaring at me. "This is our _mom_; we have to buy her something amazing." She glanced at her cell phone. "Zach's getting her a book like always, and Carissa said that she's buying her that boxed set of movies that she's always wanted."

"Why didn't we think of that?" I asked sarcastically, and she elbowed me in the side. "What, then? I have no idea what mom likes. She's… she's mom. And she does momly things."

"You're an idiot," Madison countered, but her tone said that she was joking with me. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "Mom was saying the other day how she wished we had a better blender."

"Right, kitchen appliances," I said, "because a woman belongs in the kitchen."

Madison slapped me in the arm. "You're such a loser."

I started laughing, but just as quickly as it came the laugh died out. I suddenly felt hot, like the air conditioning in the building had been turned off, even though it was still kind of muggy outside. "What're you staring at?" Madison asked, turning around and glancing over the tables in the food court. "Oh. You better tell me that you've imprinted and just didn't want to tell me, or else you're about to be in big trouble."

Katie Carlton sat at the table with her roommate (and best friend) Demi, and another blonde girl with hair that was styled like she'd been transported back to the eighties; it was far bigger than it should've been. They sat at a table, nursing smoothies. Shopping bags were piled on the table, so high that if I'd taken another step before I looked over, I probably wouldn't have seen Katie at all.

Immediately, I swerved into the food court. Madison called after me, but then she sped up, coming to my side. "What are you doing, Jack?" She asked, her gaze darting in between me and Katie. I hadn't told anyone except Emily about my weird interest in Katie, because I'd held her hand and nothing had come of it. I knew that I shouldn't continue to obsess about her, and I didn't want anyone else telling me the same thing.

I didn't answer, and Madison reached out to grab a hold of my arm, freezing me in place. "What do you think you're doing? Who's _that_?"

I winced at her tone. Madison was a hopeless romantic, and couldn't wait for the day where she would find her own soul mate. When Derek and Emily imprinted, she'd practically fallen over herself with all of the lovey-dovey stuff. I was pretty sure she dreamed about her own wedding, which would only come if she were to imprint. "Just a girl I met," I answered.

I started walking again, heading towards the pizza joint that had always been my favorite, ever since I was a kid. Madison's legs were shorter than mine, and she had to jog to keep up. "What do you mean, just a girl? You know the rules!" When I didn't answer, her tone softened considerably as she said, "What's her name?"

"Katie," I replied tersely. I waited in line, stuffing my hands into my pockets. Pulling out my wallet, I glanced at my cash – dangerously low, since my paycheck was put directly into my account, via my parents. I ordered myself two slices of pepperoni, and motioned for Madison to make a choice. She quickly gave the guy behind the counter her order, and I handed over my card. Madison and I collected our pizza and maneuvered through the tables to find a seat.

Madison made sure she was in front of me, leading the way. To my surprise, she picked out a table just a few away from Katie and her friends. She slid into her seat and didn't look up at me until I sat down. She handed me a napkin from the bunch that she'd grabbed. "So," she said, sending a glance towards the girls, "care to explain yourself?"

I sighed. "I've already talked to Emily." I told her. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I shouldn't have said them. Madison clung to Emily the way she used to cling to Carissa. Now that our oldest sister was focused more on her career and lamenting the fact that she didn't have a soul mate, Madison had left her for our younger, happier sister-in-law. Carissa didn't really seem to care.

"I can't believe you talked to Emily and she didn't say a word to me!" Madison exclaimed. She folded her pizza in half and held it up so the grease dripped down onto the paper plate. She made a face at it, but continued to complain, "Why doesn't anybody ever tell me anything? I'm like, sixteen now. You guys can't keep hiding information from me."

"Sixteen schmixteen," I said, because it was the only thing I could think of. "You're still the youngest. Now all those high school problems we were talking about years ago don't matter, because we have college problems now." I couldn't help but tease her. Madison was always complaining about the unfairness that came with being the baby of the family. She failed to notice the good things about it. I reaped those same rewards, as the fourth out of five. Our parents weren't nearly as hard on us as they were on Carissa and Zach, and even Derek, on occasion.

"Whatever," Madison intoned as I took a bite of my pizza. Grease dripped down, congealing on the plate. It was both disgusting and delicious at the same time. "But now you pretty much have to tell me, since we're sitting here like stalkers." She said.

I let out a sigh. Madison had a point. I'd told Emily because she'd been right there, and out of all of us, she'd be the one that understood the most. But if I didn't tell Madison now, she was likely to tell our sister and brothers, and our parents, and probably her friends, too, while omitting the parts that were Ace-only knowledge. She might even go out and tell the Tuckers, just because she wanted to get back at me. I wouldn't put it past her.

"I met her at a frat party." I said. "And she interested me. That's all." I said, hoping that it would be enough for my little sister.

"Right, and that's why we suddenly decided to have pizza, although it's too late for lunch and too early for dinner, and why you froze like a deer in the headlights when you first saw her. What'd you do? Did you kiss her? Oh, my God, you didn't something _worse_, didn't you?" She asked, her voice raising an octave.

I quelled the urge to cover her mouth with my hand. She was being far too loud. And what she was saying wasn't exactly what a prude would want to hear. "No!" I said, ducking a little lower, as if that would hide me. Stanton boys were notoriously tall, though Derek was the broadest of the three of us. "Jesus, Mads, I wouldn't do that. I just… I liked her, alright? There's something about her."

"Do you think it might be an imprint?" She whispered excitedly. "Like, you _know_ that she's your soul mate, and you just need to touch her to seal the deal." She was already giddy, I thought. I looked down at my plate and forced down some more pizza, though I wasn't really hungry for it anymore. When I looked back up, Madison was slyly staring at Katie. For a moment, I wondered if Madison saw the same thing I did, or if I was looking through rose-colored glasses.

"No," I admitted, crumpling the napkin. Greasy oil still clung to my fingers. "I held her hand that night. Nothing happened." Even to my own ears, I could tell that I sounded sad. I remembered sounding the same way when I talked with Emily. I swallowed and reached for my second slice of pizza. Madison was still picking at her first, looking down at it.

"Well, there's always a chance." She said. I didn't answer. What was I supposed to say to that? Madison looked at everything in a better light than the rest of us. She assumed that one day, everything would work out. Derek's imprint with Emily had given her hope. What if all of that was just false? What if what happened with my brother was a fluke, an out of the blue burst of luck? What if we were all doomed to think about our legacy without ever achieving it?

"Don't be so optimistic, Madison." I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. "Not everything has a chance. You should remember that." I stood up stiffly and went to throw away my plate. I just wanted to take Madison to get the stupid blender so I could take her home. I could go off, crash at the apartment Gil and Jeremy shared. I was ready to leave the house and get my own apartment, but my parents didn't want to let us go. The only reason they let Derek leave was because he'd gotten married. They even kept his old room ready for him, as if he was going to come back and stay.

I dropped my plate into the trashcan and stacked my bright red plastic tray on the top. The nearest trashcan was on the opposite side of a tall wall divider, with frosted glass and fake plants on the top. I couldn't see Madison from where I stood, and I couldn't see the girl coming around the corner until it was too late. One moment she wasn't there, and the next we were colliding into each other.

I couldn't help but curse under my breath. If my mom heard, she would've been livid, especially in the presence of a lady. The front of my shirt was covered in something sticky and cold. It smelled like oranges. I looked up, already prepared to apologize and make my way to the bathroom to clean up a bit, but my words froze on the tip of my tongue.

"Oh, my God, not again," Katie said, covering her face with her hands. Her fingers were covered in orangey ice, the cup on the floor between us. It was slowly leaking out, covering the specked off-white tiles. "I'm so sorry," she said, ducking down to grab the cup at the same time I did. Our foreheads collided, and she groaned out loud, smacking a hand to her temple. I retrieved the fallen cup and threw it into the trash.

"Fancy uh, _running into_ you again." I said lamely, a small smile crossing my lips. God, I sounded stupid. No wonder she hadn't said anything about me to Demi.

Instead of snorting and rolling her eyes, condemning me to a life of a lonely loser, Katie let out a laugh. It warmed me all the way through. _She_ thought I was funny, obviously. "Sorry," she said, running the back of her hand across her cheek. "That's the second shirt I've ruined."

"Nah," I said, "it's just a shirt. I've got plenty more like it at home. And you know, they have this great invention called laundry detergent. With a little Shout it'll come right out." I said. For the second time, I was talking to a girl about doing the laundry. She must've thought that I was a loser. Maybe she thought all I did was do laundry, like I obsessed about it or something. I once saw a TV show where a girl was addicted to eating laundry detergent. Maybe she thought I had some weird fetish of some sort.

"Hey, that rhymed." She pointed out, and her cheeks flushed bright red. Could she be as nervous as me?

I opened my mouth to say something when I heard my name called over the partition. "Jack? Where'd you go? Look, I know you're all pissed off, but –" Madison's voice trailed off, and she plastered on the smile that she used to get whenever we forced her to take pictures when we were kids. It looked like she'd just sucked on a lemon.

Katie's face turned even redder, and she glanced back in the general direction of her friends. "Hi! I'm Katie." She said suddenly, her voice louder than it needed to be. She _sounded_ nervous, alarmed, and a little put out. I glanced at her and then at Madison, and a thought came into my head. Madison and I looked a bit alike, but it wasn't obvious we were siblings. What if she thought Madison was a girlfriend of mine? Would she be that bothered if it were true?

"This is Madison," I said, and I thought I saw a sudden flicker of recognition. "She's my baby sister."

"I'm not a baby," Madison said indignantly. "I'm sixteen. And it's nice to meet you," she said, smiling at Katie like she didn't know that I wasn't allowed to be interested in her.

"You, too," Katie said. She looked up at me, and I was shocked all over again about how pretty her eyes were. I'd never seen a shade that color before, almost like gold, if you asked me. "Well, I should get back to Demi and Marcie," she said, trying to make an exit.

"Wait," I said before I could stop myself. "Can I ask you a question?" She nodded, and I noticed that she was biting down on her lower lip. Did she know that she was doing that, or that it was incredibly attractive? I wanted to ask her if she felt anything special about me, if she was as drawn to me as I was to her. I wanted to ask if she'd hang out with me, or let me take her to the movies or to dinner. I wanted to ask her a lot of things, but the thing that came out of my mouth was, "We need to get my mom a birthday gift, and Madison wants to get her a blender. What do you think?"

She paused for a second, as if she had to rewind the question in her mind. Madison looked up at me, one eyebrow cocked. Clearly, she thought I was stupid. I wanted to drop my head in my hands and walk off before anyone could specify how dumb I was. But Katie just smiled, and it lit up her entire face. "Yeah, that's good. One time I bought my mom a coffee pot, just 'cause I didn't know what else she'd want. Kitchen appliances are always good for moms."

Madison nudged me in the side, and I said, "Thanks. I'll… I guess I'll see you around?"

Katie bit her lip again and brushed her hair – brown in this lighting, but I knew that it would light up with a million strands of red in the sun – out of her eyes. "Yeah, you'll see me around." She turned then and headed back around the partition.

I stared after her until Madison really nudged me in the side, hard enough that it might leave a bruise. I blinked a few times, remembering where I was. I was still covered in orange smoothie, and I'd just asked Katie what she thought I should buy my mom for her birthday. I could've asked her anything else, but that was what I settled on?

"Oh, boy," Madison said under her breath. "Mom's going to have a _cow_." She muttered, more to herself than to me.

"You can't tell her," I spit out. I stalked forward, heading towards the bathrooms. Madison was close behind, trailing behind me. Once she even stepped on the heel of my shoe.

"But –"

"Just don't," I interrupted. "Wait here." I motioned for her to stay there and stepped into the men's bathroom. It was empty. I leaned against the sink for a moment and looked into the mirror. I had to be crazy. Why was I so obsessed with her? I'd only just met her. And I'd held her hand, and we hadn't imprinted. She was just another human girl, one that was completely off-limits.

Unless. The thought spun around in my mind. Unless we were just friends. I was allowed to have friends. I wasn't allowed to date, but having a friend that just happened to be a girl wasn't anything bad. In fact, it was imperative to the human development. I could be Katie's friend, if she let me. We wouldn't have to be anything more. Just friends.

With a sigh, I pulled my shirt over my head and held it under the sink, rinsing out her orange smoothie. I wondered if they were still out there, or if they'd already gone. I wondered if she was talking about me now, and how I'd asked her about a blender. I squeezed out my shirt and held it under the dryer, repeatedly pushing the button until my black shirt didn't look wet anymore. Pulling it back over my head, I stepped out of the bathroom.

Madison was still waiting for me, her head down as she focused on her phone. I hoped she wasn't texting anybody about the predicament that I was in. She looked up when I stepped out, and her eyes skimmed over the front of my shirt.

"Let's go get mom's blender, Mads." I said to her. She nodded, and together we headed towards the kitchen appliance store without saying a word about Katie.

# # #

I really needed to study for my philosophy exam. The class wasn't that hard; all I had to do was keep the philosophers and their writings straight. But it was a pain because it was so boring. I never did the reading for that class, and I hadn't been taking the best notes lately. Luckily, Aimee had the same professor in a different time slot, and she was a meticulous note-taker.

"Here," Aimee said, putting a venti-sized coffee in front of me. "It's on the house."

"Thanks," I said, picking it up. It was still warm. I blew on the top of it and took a tentative sip, burning the tip of my tongue. Setting it back down on the table, I flipped through Aimee's notes. She was more organized than I was. Her spiral was completely neat, aside from a few doodles in the margins. Her handwriting was loopy and bold and easy to read, and she highlighted vocabulary terms in bright green.

With my own spiral open, I focused on transferring what I deemed particularly important information into my own notes, hoping that after looking them over I could at least pass the test. I'd never failed a test since I started college, although Derek teased me about it and Zach, the family genius, always assumed that I was more of a joker than a scholar. While that was true, I wasn't stupid.

I didn't even notice that Aimee was still standing beside me until she sat down on the opposite couch. I looked up, and she shot me a nervous smile. "I'm sorry, I know you're trying to study, but I just… I have a question, and there's no one else in the shop, so it seemed like the perfect time to ask." She paused, as if waiting for me to say something. When I didn't speak right away, her smile drooped a little, and she said, "But if now's not a good time, I can always ask you later."

"No," I said, setting aside our spirals. I balanced my pen on its end, then spun it back and forth. "Shoot."

Her cheeks flushed red, and she said, "I'm going to sound like an idiot, but… last time you came in here, you said that Gil was a good guy."

I blinked for a moment. Was she still thinking about that? I'd just said it because I thought she might've needed to hear it. It was obvious to me that she liked him, and he liked her, and they were just too blind to see it. I'd seen plenty of people getting together and breaking up that I'd become nearly an expert at it. It was to the point where I could most likely guess the demise of a couple weeks before it happened, just by looking at their expressions. It wasn't exactly a marketable skill, but it's sort of what happened when you thought about your own, possible loveless future.

Just because I'm a guy doesn't mean that I'm not into the romance thing, just a little bit. I'm not head over heels about it like Madison is, but when your entire race leans on the idea of whether or not you'll find your true love, it's something that's kind of important.

"He is," I said. She didn't say anything, and I wondered if she'd thought that it was wrong for me to say anything about Gil. What if I'd misinterpreted their sly gazes and she was embarrassed? "Look, I'm sorry if it rubbed you the wrong way, I just –"

"No! It didn't rub me the wrong way, why would it? All I meant to ask is… do you mean it? I mean, I've never seen Gil with anyone, and I didn't know if he thought about me at all like that. It's just he never asks me to do anything, and I'm scared of being shot down." She looked away from me and sighed heavily. "God, I'm an idiot." She started to stand and said, "Just forget about it. Pretend I didn't say anything."

"Wait," I said. She looked back at me, and I could tell that there was something hopeful in her eyes. Since when did I become a relationship counselor? That was usually a girl's job. Did I come off as that sensitive? "Just ask him to go to the movies or something. He won't turn you down."

Aimee beamed. "Thanks, Jack. I know it's a little weird to be asking you. I mean, you're a guy. And guys don't usually know much about this kind of stuff. No offense."

"None taken," I replied sardonically. "We guys are stupid. Especially Gil." _Especially me._

She laughed. Then she paused and looked at me, _really_ looked at me, as if she was trying to read underneath it all. "I know there's something bothering you," she said quietly. "You've helped me, and I just wanted to let you know that I'm here to listen. I mean, I know you guys don't talk like us girls do, but maybe you need some feminine advice?"

I must've looked shocked, because she laughed. "Please. I know you haven't dated anyone since we met. And I don't really understand why. And then all of a sudden you're telling me to chance it with Gil, like maybe you know you can't chance anything yourself." She tilted her head a little bit and said, "Am I right?"

I shrugged. "I just can't date her." I stated. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I winced. I shouldn't have said anything. I should've played it off. Because now Aimee was going to ask questions, and I'd have to think up lies to keep her from finding out the truth. If there was one thing I'd always hated about being an Ace, it was the fact that we had to lie to other people about ourselves and the things we did. "She's a friend, nothing more."

"Ah, the friendzone," she said sympathetically. I just shrugged again, because if she thought up an excuse on her own, it was better than me trying to explain one to her. "Either she's not good enough for you, Jack, or you just have to make her really see you." She grinned at me for a moment, and the bell above the door chimed as a new customer arrived. "Good luck," she said.

I wondered if she meant with my "friendzone" problems, or she meant philosophy. I decided I didn't really want to know, and instead went back to my studying.

**What do you think? I was worried that Jack would come off as being "too sensitive" and into the whole romance aspect, so I'm hoping that he still has his man card after you guys read this chapter. Ha! Let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading! Peace (:**


	6. Lessons from the Mastermind

**Guest – (1) Don't have a heart attack! This story is only twelve chapters in length, and this is the sixth one. You're almost done, I promise! (2) Will do!**

**cupcakemania22 – Oh good, I totally didn't want him to lose his man card. It's very important to him, you know (: haha. Maybe they'll imprint, maybe they won't…. (:**

**minion – Jack's POV became increasingly easier the more I wrote it, so I'm glad you like it now, it can only get better!**

**The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.**

_6: Lessons from the Mastermind_

Katie

I wasn't one to hyperventilate. I mean, I did that one time that the elevator shut down between floors, but that was a (hopefully) one-time deal. All I really got out of that was a fear of elevators, and, sometimes, closed-in spaces, though that was rarer. This, though, was in a different league altogether. I hadn't known before that there were different levels of freak-out, but if the elevator rated a three on a five-star scale, spilling another drink on Jack Stanton came in at a solid ten.

I couldn't imagine a time where I had been more embarrassed. My cheeks were still flushed as I ducked around to the other side of the divider. Demi and Marcie were still sitting at our table. Marcie was flicking through the pictures on her phone while Demi looked on, chewing on the end of her straw. They both looked up when I collapsed into my chair.

"What's wrong with you?" Demi asked, eyeing me. She had the smallest of smiles, though, as if she already knew. I hoped she hadn't seen Jack and me talking. I was already getting enough from her as it was.

"Nothing," I said a bit too defensively. If she didn't know something was up a second ago, she definitely saw right through me, now. She didn't say a word, just cocked an eyebrow, and I spilled. "I just ran into Jack Stanton," I said. "And I spilled my smoothie on him."

"Who's Jack Stanton?" Marcie asked before Demi could say a word.

"Oh, he's just this superhot guy that Katie met at the Halloween party." My roommate said, fluttering her eyelashes just at the thought of him. "And by superhot, I mean downright sexy. I don't think I've ever seen abs like that on a guy." She added dreamily.

"Wait. How do you know what his abs look like?" Marcie asked, clearly intrigued. "Did you… _you know_?"

"No!" I exclaimed before Demi could lie and say that Jack and I were a thing. Or worse, that _she_ and Jack were a thing. Somehow, that made me feel a little sick. "You saw him. I was talking to him on the driveway," I told Marcie, feeling my cheeks flush pink.

"Oh, him," Marcie said, her eyes going faraway and she tried to remember. "I didn't really see him. But seriously, how did you see his abs?" She asked. Her interest was sincere. As far as I knew, Marcie hadn't ever had a boyfriend. If she did, she never talked about him, or any of her past relationships. In fact, she never really talked about herself, and instead seemed to live off of the rest of us. Or rather, she lived vicariously through Demi and Julia, because she wasn't gaining much life experience through me.

"Facebook," Demi answered. "I saw him out by the library and told him how to find Katie online." She sounded very proud of herself. I had the sneaking suspicion that she longed to be a matchmaker. The psychology of love interested her, almost as much as the psychology of learning. If they had matchmaking for a major, she'd have a completely different class schedule.

"So, are you guys like, talking?" Marcie asked.

"I don't…." I started then faltered. I didn't exactly know what _talking_ entailed. I knew it had something to do with the process of getting together. It was a pre-dating stage. As far as I was concerned, it was flirting and calling and texting like you were dating, but without being exclusive. I had no idea if that was right or wrong. Garrett and I hadn't _talked_ before we started dating. We just… happened. "I don't know. I mean, we _talk_, but not like that. I think."

Demi clucked her tongue at me and shook her head, completely disgraced. "Okay, clearly, Marcie and I need to have an intervention for you. This is college, not high school, and your relationship with Garrett was," she paused, as if she couldn't decide on the right word, "it just was. It sounds like you guys didn't have like, a real relationship, you know?"

That hurt a little bit, because I always considered my relationship with Garrett real. But I guess I knew what she meant. Garrett and I had lacked passion. We existed because it made sense. He was valedictorian, I was salutatorian, and we were so very clearly meant to be. At least, that's how it always seemed. But then we broke up, and I didn't feel much of anything. We promised that we'd be friends, because that's what people who break up promise to do. But, unlike most scorned couples, Garrett and I actually continued to talk. It felt the same really, we just didn't make plans to see each other like we used to.

I just shrugged. "Can we talk about something else?" I asked, crossing my fingers that Demi would move on and forget about Jack Stanton and my sad excuse for a love life.

"No." My roommate said. She chewed on the end of her straw thoughtfully. "This is about you, Katie."

"I don't want it to be about me," I complained, adding a little bit of a whine to my words. I wasn't a whiner, because my dad hated it. So did Demi, but my father and my roommate reacted to it differently. Dad gave me a speech; Demi usually left me alone.

"Too bad," she replied, dashing all of my hopes of a quiet night with my chemistry homework. Demi stood up and reached for her shopping bags, layering them over her arm. "Come on, let's go find something for you to wear. We're going out to night."

I didn't bother to hide my groan as Demi lobbed her empty smoothie into the trashcan. Marcie followed, excited to be Demi's right-hand gal at planning my impending makeover. They wouldn't listen to me. I had no choice but to follow and hope for the best.

# # #

"Please," I begged, tugging at the neckline of my shirt. If I pulled on the collar, it made the hem ride higher on my hips. If I pulled on the bottom, it bared too much skin. There was no winning with this thing, but Demi didn't believe me when I argued my case in the store. If I hadn't bought it myself, she would've bought it "for herself," and then she'd mercilessly try to persuade me into it.

I thought I'd taken the easy way out by buying it myself. Apparently, I was wrong. Because when I went back home for the summer and brought this little buy with me, my dad's eyes would pop out of his skull. According to Demi, it was sexy, not slutty. But I wasn't so sure. It was sleeveless thing in an obnoxious coral color. The lapels folded back and revealed three buttons that couldn't actually be buttoned, but rather stayed open, giving off a hint of my chest. Paired with skinny jeans from the back of Julia's closet, which had rips along the thighs, a studded belt from Demi's collection, and booties that Marcie had shoved under her bed, I thought I looked like a hot mess. But the others claimed that it wasn't the case.

Demi unrolled a curler from my hair and teased the corkscrew locks with her fingers. "See? It looks nice. Let loose a little," she smiled at me in the mirror. Instead of just brushing her off like I usually would, I took a moment to look at myself. I'd never dress myself like this back home, not with Miranda's failure and my dad's rules hanging over my head. I hadn't thought that it would look good, but somehow, they'd pulled it all together and I looked… decent. Maybe not drop dead gorgeous, like them, but pretty.

Julia giggled and excused herself; Marc was out in the hall waiting for her. Part of this had been her plan. Demi had just wanted to dress me up and take me out to another party, but Julia met us on her way to the bathroom to shower, and she'd implored that we join her. So out was the frat party, and in was the club.

I'd never been to a club before. The Halloween party was the first party I'd been to, much less a club, where we had to _pay_ to hang around drunkards. This would make the second non-Katie thing I'd done in a week. My stomach tied itself in knots with anxiety. "I don't know," I finally managed.

Demi rolled her eyes. "Stop worrying. You look great!" She exclaimed, grabbing my hand. She slung her little black purse over her shoulder, and handed me the only purse I owned, dragging me out of the room. Julia and Marc were in the hallway, smiling and laughing quietly with each other. Marcie gave them a pointed look when we stepped out, but she didn't say a word as we filed down the hall.

My dorm was co-ed, but the floors were not. The floor us girls lived on was the third floor, while there was another floor of girls above us and two floors of boys below us. Some people left their doors open, an invitation for people to come in, and others kept theirs locked. A pop station played from someone's room, echoing down the hallway as we headed towards the stairs. We clomped down like a herd of elephants and out of the dorm doors, into the night air.

I was the only one without a car on campus, but the club was in walking distance, and the night was cool enough that it wouldn't be much of a problem. Plus, according to Marc, the parking sucked anyway, and we might have to end up walking even farther if we took a car. I didn't mind, even though I was wearing heeled booties, because if we took a car, someone would be elected the designated driver for a just-in-case scenario, and that person would be me.

Marc and Julia started ahead of us. Marc was a junior, just turned twenty-one, but he and Julia were a perfect match for each other. According to them, they'd known each other in high school, but hadn't really been friends until Julia showed up in Marc's economics class, and their familiarity had grown into something more. As I watched them, I wished that I could have something like that. It was a random thought, because I'd never really thought that before. I had Garrett in high school, and outside of my pseudo-relationship with him, I hadn't had much time to think about my love life. Everything I had had been focused on school with such a ferocity that everything else was pushed to the side.

As the thought hit me, I stopped on the sidewalk for a second. I'd always known that I was a little strange because of my obsession with academics. But for the first time, I didn't feel like I was drowning because of it. My father wasn't watching every move I made, or enforcing a strict curfew, or using me as an example when trying to punish Miranda for her late night escapades. And I realized, in that moment, that I was technically free. It was a little late coming, seeing as school had been going on since August and we were a few days into November now, but it had finally come.

What surprised me the most, though, was the yearning I felt. I _wanted_ to have confidence like Demi. I wanted to let loose and be myself, like Marcie. I wanted to have a relationship like Julia's. I wanted to be something more than what I'd been for the last four years of my life. There had to be more to me than an uptight nerd. There had to be somewhere I belonged.

Demi wrapped her arm around mine, leading me down the sidewalk. Marcie stepped up on my other side, effectively wedging me in between them. I could easily imagine them whisking me away to do something completely un-Katie-like. But instead of stressing about their possible motives, I felt myself relax into whatever they had planned. I might be the most logical and level-headed, but that didn't mean that I couldn't have fun every once in a while. But really, what was fun to a college student? Miranda always said that I was weird, especially when I told her that reading books _was _fun.

"Can you teach me how to have fun?" I blurted. My cheeks immediately flamed after I realized what I'd said, but it was true. They showed their age, and I was like a pinched middle-aged adult who didn't understand the meaning of childhood.

"You know what fun is," Marcie said cautiously, as if maybe I'd snapped and gone insane.

"Not _real_ fun," I said. "All I ever did with Garrett was study and watch movies, and I never went out to parties. I never broke curfew and stayed out later than eleven." I told them. "I've never been to a club or a bar or even a football game." I added. My dad wasn't a big sports fan, and neither was my mother. Miranda had gone, but she'd never brought me along. I was dad's spy to her, someone that couldn't be trusted.

"You've never been to a football game?" Marcie asked, shocked. I remembered that she said she was a cheerleader back in high school. Football had been a huge part of her life.

Demi reached behind me to nudge Marcie in the shoulder. "I don't know what you did with Katie," she said to me, "but I like it. Come on. Let's remind you what it's like to be a college kid." She smiled broadly and tugged me along after her.

# # #

The club was more of a bar than a club. It was in an old building, but the inside had at least been redone in the past decade. The bar along the back wall was made of shiny oak, and on the other side was a stage where a live band played. In front of the stage was a dance floor, and just beyond that was a bunch of high tables. It was nothing spectacular, but it was nice and clean and wasn't overrun with drunks, which was something I'd been worrying about. Plus, I'd heard that this place was really popular with the college kids.

Marc went up to the bar and brandished his non-X-marked hand, which stated to the bartenders that he was twenty-one. The rest of us took a table near the back, away from the screaming fangirls. The band played pop covers in rock format, as well as some songs that I'd never heard of – maybe originals, or covers of older songs. I'd never gone to listen to live music before, either, so this was something completely new for me.

"First step," Demi said, yelling into my ear. She had to, for me to hear her. "You need to relax and enjoy yourself." She looked like she wanted to add more, but she didn't. It would be too hard to hear more than a few sentences at a time. She held up a finger and left me at the table with Julia. Marcie had already slipped into the crowd of dancers in front of the stage.

Marc came back with two beers, one of which he handed off to Julia. They clinked their bottles together as Marc sat down and draped his arm possessively around her. The two of them were in their own world, sharing a table with me. I'd never felt more like a third wheel.

Demi came back and handed me a tall glass. I gave it a cursory sniff, pleased to discover that it was just Coke. My roommate climbed into the high chair next to me and leaned over. "It's just Coke!" She yelled out. She took a sip of hers and leaned against me. "If a guy asks you to dance, say yes, unless he's a total creep. Otherwise, say no. Just hang out and enjoy yourself."

I nodded. The thought of a guy coming up and asking me to dance made me a little nervous, because I wasn't much of a dancer. I didn't go to prom because it was so close to finals. Garrett and I had decided that it would be wise to spend our time studying instead of awkwardly standing in some hotel ballroom. That was the only real dance our school provided. But I figured that not many guys would walk up to me and ask, so that was okay. Besides, Demi was there to help me if I needed her.

"Oh, and no thinking about school stuff at all," she added, giving me a pointed look. I smiled sheepishly. She knew me too well. It was hard to just sit down and relax and _not_ think about all of the things that I had due. For a moment, my chemistry homework hung over my head like a black cloud. Then I quickly pushed it away, because Demi said that I needed to.

"Got it," I yelled back to her. She nodded and smiled triumphantly. I loved Demi, I really did, and in only a few months she'd managed to become that best friend that I'd never had. I'd missed a lot growing up, trying to live up to my father's expectations. But I couldn't put all the blame on him, or on Miranda. Part of it was all me. I hadn't wanted to challenge anything that was said to me. I was perfectly okay with holing up with a book and doing homework assignments instead of meeting up with friends. Instead of parties, I was going to club meetings. Instead of birthday parties and sleepovers, I was attending National Geographic and Discovery documentaries on the living room TV.

I'd never admitted it before, but I was scared to do anything outside of my comfort zone. College was one of those things that I wasn't exactly looking forward to, like Miranda had looked forward to hers. I didn't understand why anyone would just want to leave. Everyone had said that they couldn't wait until they could get out of town, and once they did they were never coming back. I couldn't even begin to comprehend, because I always saw myself moving back home after college. I saw myself as a doctor, but hadn't thought farther than that.

One of the only reasons that I'd gone off to college in the first place was because it was the next logical step. I could've stayed home and gone to the local community college, but that would have been a letdown, given all that I'd done to get my place as second in the class. Plus, I'd have to give up the scholarship I'd worked so hard for. But now I was glad that I'd gone, because I'd managed to make a few good friends.

From that moment on, I tried to do what Demi told me to. I pretended like school didn't exist. I watched the band and kept the beat on the tabletop with my fingers. I drained one Coke and joked with Demi and Marcie. And when they pulled me from my chair and onto the dance floor, I didn't freak out, though deep down inside I wanted to. Demi was trying to teach me how to dance when I felt someone close in behind me.

At first, I thought it was Marcie. She and Demi had crowded around me, laughing and teasing as they tried to teach me more than moving my arms around awkwardly. As one song faded, Demi grinned at me and nudged me hard in the side with her elbow. I threw a glance over my shoulder, expecting to see Marcie demonstrating some funny move, but it wasn't Marcie at all. Instead it was the last person I'd expected to see.

Jack Stanton.

**Okay, I know they keep running into each other. I promise it'll be more than just running into each other soon. In fact, the next chapter their little run-in might be a little more planned. Who knows for sure?**

**Thanks for reading, and leave me a review, because you guys know how much I love those. Peace (:**


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